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THE 


Poetry  of  the  Orient. 


BY 


WILLIAM    ROUNSEVILLE    ALGER, 

AUTHOR  OF  "the  FRIENDSHIPS  OF  WOMEN,"    "  THE  GENIUS  OF  SOUTUDE,** 
"the  DOCTRINE  OF  A  FUTURE  LIFE." 


What  precious  things  I  found  in  Onental  lands, 
Returning  home,  I  brought  them  in  my  votive  haoda. 


BOSTON: 
ROBERTS     BROTHERS. 

1883. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1865,  by 

WILLIAM    ROUNSEVILLE  ALGER, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


FIFTH    EDITION,    ENLARGED. 


Cambridge: 
presswork  by  john  wilson  and  son. 


TO 

THE    DEAR    AND    PURE    MEMORY 
OF   MY   DEAD   BOY, 

HENRY    LODGE    ALGER, 

WHO  LOVED  MANY  THINGS   IN  THIS   BOOK, 
I  NOW  DEDICATE  IT. 


384514 


PEEFACE  TO   THE  FIFTH  EDITION. 


This  book,  —  whose  peculiar  character  and  claim 
have  been  generously  recognized  by  many  choice 
spirits, —  for  some  time  out  of  print,  now  wins  its  way 
to  a  fifth  edition.  The  author  and  editor,  separating 
his  own  personality  and  share  from  the  largest  part 
of  its  contents,  feels  that  the  volume  contains  much, 
not  likely  to  be  found  by  many  readers  elsewhere, 
which  is  especially  fitted  to  give  to  a  generation 
absorbed  in  materialism,  toil,  strife  and  doubt,  the 
kind  of  suggestion  and  stimulus  it  most  needs.  We 
have  too  much  mechanical  labor,  routine,  outward 
ambition,  sensualism,  and  frivolity;  too  little  ideal 
enthusiasm,  inward  surrender,  original  sympathy, 
and  spiritual  liberty.  In  the  following  pages  will  be 
found  a  great  many  pieces  that  appeal  with  singular 
force  and  daring  to  those  supreme  faculties  of  faith 
and  reason  and  imagination,  those  transcendent  forms 
of  meditation,  sensibility,  and  aspiration,  without  which 


VI  PREFACE. 

all  the  noblest  moral  and  religious  experiences  are 
utterly  impossible.  A  few  testimonies  to  this  effect 
are  added  here,  in  the  hope  of  catching  the  attention 
of  cursory  glancers  at  the  volume,  who  may  thus  be 
led  to  a  leisurely  discovery  of  what  they  would  not 
willingly  have  missed  through  haste  or  contempt. 
The  book  is  not  meant  for  those  who  seek  amusement 
in  literary  dissipation ;  it  is  meant  for  those  who  seek 
improvement  with  delight,  and  who  are  capable  of 
appreciating  the  largest  stretches  of  intelligence  and 
the  most  exquisite  delicacies  of  sentiment. 

James  Walker,  then  President  of  Harvard  Univer- 
sity, wrote  :  "  Those  who  would  understand  the  whole 
of  human  nature,  and  the  whole  of  human  experience, 
will  gain  much  help  by  reading  this  book." 

George  Macdonald,  pulling  it  from  his  pocket  as  he 
stood  with  the  author,  before  the  Staubbach,  at 
Lauterbrunnen,  said :  "  This  fascinating  and  inspiring 
volume  has  long  been  my  constant  companion,  and  I 
have  to  thank  the  writer  of  it  for  an  invaluable  bene- 
faction." 

Kufus  Choate,  saying  that  he  had  "perused  the 
work  with  an  enjoyment  that  was  vivid,  and  an  edifi- 
cation that  was  profound,"  added  :  "  The  Orientals  are 
wonderfully  competent  to  poetry,  abundantly  competent 
to  philosophy,  fairly  competent  to  science,  scarcely 
competent  to  virtue,  absolutely  incompetent  to  liberty." 


PREFACE.  Vll 

John  G.  Whittier  wrote :  "  I  am  grateful  for  this 
volume  of  Oriental  Poetry.  It  is  full  of  wisdom  and 
it  is  full  of  beauty." 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  who  had  himself  ever  been 
an  eager  searcher  after  the  hidden  gems  of  the  Eastern 
Mind,  both  in  the  speculative  field  and  in  the  imagi- 
native, greeted  the  first  edition  with  approving  interest, 
writing,  "  Now  that  these  lustrous  jewels  are  scattered 
on  the  pavement,  we  shall  see  if  people  will  stoop  to 
pick  them  up." 

Frederic  Henry  Hedge,  in  a  careful  review  of  the 
work,  used  the  following  words :  ''  To  Mr.  Alger  be- 
longs the  praise  of  being  the  first  American,  who,  so 
far  as  we  know,  has  surveyed  the  ground  embraced  in 
these  pages,  —  certainly  the  first  who  has  reported  the 
same  for  the  benefit  of  the  American  public.  He 
has  given  us  a  golden  volume,  replete  with  sage 
thoughts  and  memorable  sayings,  —  a  costly  anthology, 
in  which  every  specimen  is  either  rich  or  rare.  This 
is  no  ephemeral  production,  to  be  read  and  done  with 
once  for  all,  but  a  common-place  book  of  wit  and 
wisdom,  to  be  kept  within  reach  as  a  constant  refresh- 
ment and  never-failing  delight." 

Thomas  Starr  King,  in  a  long  and  flattering  notice 
of  the  work  on  its  first  appearance,  wrote:  "This 
volume  will  richly  repay  study  to  all  who  can  find 
benefit  in  change  of  mental  aliment,  and  who  are  will- 


Vlll  PREFACE. 

ing  to  be  led  by  a  scholarly  hand  through  the  gorgeous 
and  crowded  Athenaeum  of  Eastern  Literature." 

The  writer  —  arrogating  little  merit  for  his  personal 
part  in  it,  fully  aware  that  many  things  herein  are 
trivial  in  substance  and  faulty  in  form  —  quotes  the 
above  opinions  simply  to  draw  wider  attention,  if 
possible,  to  the  fact  that  this  introductory  collection 
of  specimens  of  the  poetry  of  the  Orient  contains  much 
that  the  Western  Mind  needs  to  assimilate,  —  senti- 
ments unique  in  tenderness  and  splendor;  thoughts 
mystic  in  depth  and  audacity ;  expressions  surpassingly 
original  in  charm  and  power. 

For  example  :  — 

The  way  to  God  is  short  when  man  his  sin  forsakes : 
A  single  step  beyond  himself  is  all  it  takes. 

My  heart  is  rent  by  separation  from  my  friend ; 
But  God  will  soon  the  heart  of  separation  rend. 

To  what  shall  I  the  beauties  of  the  Lord  compare  ? 
The  day  is  his  sweet  face,  the  night  his  streaming  hair. 

For  a  mirror  God  maketh  each  spirit  that  is, 
And  confronteth  it  ever  with  all  that  is  his  ; 
The  amount  that  it  sees  makes  the  sum  of  its  bliss. 


PREFACE 


The  whole  field  of  Oriental  literature,  so  far  as  ac- 
cessible through  English,  Latin,  German,  and  French 
translations,  has  long  been  with  me  a  favorite  province 
for  excursions  in  such  leisure  hours  as  I  could  com- 
mand. And  during  that  time  I  have  been  in  the 
habit  of  versifying  the  brief  passages  which  struck 
me  most  forcibly.  From  the  enjoyment  these  pecu- 
liar fragments  of  meditation  and  imagery  gave  me, — 
from  the  conviction  that  others  too  would  enjoy  them, 
—  from  the  difficulty  of  finding  them  where  they  now 
lie,  dispersed  and  buried  amidst  repelling  masses  of 
dry  detail,  —  and  from  the  expressed  desire  of  several 
friends,  —  arose  the  resolve  to  venture  the  present 
publication. 

There  seems  to  me  also  a  striking  propriety,  and 
the  promise  of  profit,  in  bringing  to  the  acquaintance 
of  Americans  the  most  marked  mental  peculiarities  of 
the  Orientals.  Must  not  a  spiritual  contact  between 
the  enterprising  young  West  and  the  meditative  old 


X  PREFACE. 

East  be  a  source  of  uncommon  stimulus  and  culture  ? 
It  is  a  noble  ambition  to  desire  to  master  all  the 
varieties  of  lawful  human  experience ;  and  Oriental 
poetry  offers  to  our  attention  fields  of  thought,  modes 
of  feeling,  styles  of  imagination,  the  most  impressively 
unlike  our  own.  Whoever,  born  and  nurtured  in  the 
midst  of  Western  civilization,  wishes  to  understand 
the  whole  of  human  nature  and  the  whole  of  human 
consciousness,  especially  in  its  more  ideal  depart- 
ments, wuU  nowhere  else  find  so  much  instruction 
and  excitement  as  in  the  province  to  which  the  pres- 
ent work  essays  to  introduce  him. 

Many  persons  seem  to  think  that  this  region  — 
the  poetic  literature  of  the  East  —  is  fitted  to  yield 
only  a  barren  crop  of  verbiage,  or  a  tawdry  mass  of 
sentimental  extravagance.  It  often  has  these  charac- 
teristics. It  also  possesses  all  kinds  of  wealth,  in 
their  most  exalted  degrees,  and  in  their  most  wonder- 
ful profusion.  The  poetry  of  the  unimaginative  Chi- 
nese is  noticeable  for  ethical  good  sense, — a  wholesome 
vein  of  homely  truth.  Its  beat  is  circumscribed  to 
the  ranges  of  practical  experience,  neither  plunging  to 
metaphysical  depths,  nor  soaring  to  rapturous  heights. 
The  Muse  of  China  is  a  ground-sparrow.  With  the 
Arabs  passion  is  carried  to  its  most  fiery  ecstasies,  its 
most  tenacious  lengths.  Their  ideas  seem  to  be  trans- 
muted into  sensations,  rather  than  their  sensations  to 


PREFACE.  XI 

be  represented  in  ideas.  Imagination  itself  is  heated, 
vascular,  vibrating  with  the  blood.  Sanscrit  and  Hin- 
dostange  poetry  is  characterized,  in  its  most  peculiar 
phases,  by  an  unrivalled  idealization.  Imagination 
often  takes  the  reins  from  judgment,  and  runs  riot, 
and  language  breaks  into  a  blossoming  wilderness  of 
metaphor.  But  the  richness  and  originality  of  the 
result  in  ideas  and  emotions,  as  well  as  in  imagery, 
are  frequently  grand  and  exhilarating.  The  most 
distinctive  Persian  poetry  exhibits  an  exquisite  deli- 
cacy of  sense  elsewhere  unparalleled,  a  vast  and  ethe- 
real play  of  fancy  and  sentiment,  a  fetterless  jubilancy 
of  reason  and  faith,  the  very  transcendentalism  of  wit. 
All  seems  strained  through  the  imagination,  deprived 
of  grossness,  held  in  solution,  ready  to  dart  in  electric 
freedom.  The  dying  Siifi,  Mewlana  Eumi,  says,  in 
anticipation  of  his  funeral,  to  the  friends  weeping 
around  him :  — 

"  While  your  dim  eyes  but  see,  through  the  haze  of  earth's 
sadness, 
My  frame  doomed  to  mix  with  the  mouldering  clod, 
I  am  treading  the  courts  of  the  seventh  heaven  in  gladness, 
And  basking  unveiled  in  the  vision  of  God."         ^ 

Where  has  the  divine  lesson,  "  Bless  them  that 
injure  you,"  been  more  charmingly  rendered  than 
in  the  following  lines  from  Hafiz,  translated  by  Sir 
William  Jones  ? 


XII  PREFACE. 

"  Learn  from  yon  Orient  shell  to  love  thy  foe, 
And  store  with  pearls  the  hand  that  brings  thee  woe : 
Free,' like  yon  rock,  from  base  vindictive  pride,  ^ 
Lnblaze  with  gems  the  wrist  that  tears  thy  side  ; 
Mark  where  yon  tree  rewards  the  stony  shower 
With  fruit  nectareous  or  balmy  flower. 
All  nature  calls  aloud,  '  Shall  man  do  less 
Than  heal  the  smiter,  and  the  railer  bless  ? '  ** 

The  substance  of  many  of  the  pieces  in  the  ensuing 
pages,  from  the  great  Eastern  authors,  will  be  found 
most  surprising.  Some  pieces  will  be  found  merely 
odd,  quaint,  grotesque,  or  bizarre ;  some  are  unques- 
tionably trivial ;  but  nearly  all,  it  is  hoped,  possess, 
for  one  reason  or  other,  some  peculiarity  which  lends 
them  a  justifying  interest,  if  not  value.  There  is  a 
naivete  in  the  mythological  rhetoric  of  the  old  Hindu 
bards  mentally  provocative  in  a  singular  degree. 
What  a  glimpse  into  the  pre-liistoric  state  and  habits 
of  man,  in  the  primeval  Aryan  world,  is  opened, 
when  we  find,  in  the  Rig  Veda,  the  clouds  called 
cows,  the  winds  calves,  and  the  rain  milk !  The  cow 
bellows  for  her  calf;  that  is,  the  thunder-cloud  roars 
for  the  wind  to  draw  the  rain  from  its  breast ! 
Again,  the  colors  of  the  spectrum  are  seven  sisters 
riding  together  in  the  chariot  of  the  year,  drawn  by 
seven  horses.  The  axle  of  the  chariot  is  never  heated, 
the  nave  never  worn ;  its  journeying  damages  not  the 


PREFACE.  Xlll 

four  quarters  of  the  horizon ;  the  team  never  sweats 
nor  snorts,  and  is  unsullied  by  dust ! 

The  form,  also,  of  Eastern  poetry  is  in  many  cases 
very  peculiar.  The  ghazel  consists  usually  of  not  less 
than  five,  or  more  than  fifteen  couplets,  all  with  the 
same  rhyme.  Here  is  an  imperfect  one,  translated 
by  Vans  Kennedy.  In  perusing  it  the  reader  must 
know  that  "  cell,"  in  the  Siifi  dialect,  means  chapel ; 
"  pagans,"  priests  ;   "  wine,"  Divine  love. 

"  The  shade  that  cypress  here  bestows,  to  me 's  enough. 
The  joy  that  from  the  goblet  flows,  to  me 's  enough. 
The  cell  where  pagans  wine  expose,  to  me 's  enough. 
The  sign  how  swift  each  moment  goes,  to  me 's  enough. 
If  not  to  you,  the  joy  it  shows  to  me 's  enough. 
The  bhss  her  converse  fond  bestows,  to  me 's  enough. 
Love  sweeter  far  than  angel  knows,  to  me 's  enough. 
A  guileless  heart,  with  verse  that  glows,  to  me 's  enough." 

A  divan  is  a  body  of  ghazels  arranged  in  alpha- 
betical order,  according  to  their  isocatalectic  letters. 

The  larger  proportion  of  the  specimens  given  here 
are  faithful  representations  of  Hindu,  Persian,  and 
Arab  thoughts,  sentiments,  and  fancies,  which  I  have 
met  with  in  the  voluminous  records  of  the  different 
Asiatic  Societies,  in  prose  versions  from  the  Vedas 
and  Puranas,  and  in  a  thousand  scattered  sources. 
Of  the  rest,  the  originating  hint  and  impulse  alone, 
or  merely  the  character  and  style,  are  Oriental. 


XIV  PREFACE. 

I  have  prefixed  to  each  piece  which  is  strictly  a 
translation  the  name  of  the  original  author,  whenever 
it  was  known  to  me.  The  specimens  derived  through 
the  German  of  Herder  and  of  Ruckert  I  am  com- 
pelled to  leave  anonymous,  as  no  clew  is  given  to 
the  authors  from  whom  they  were  derived.  I  have 
affixed  the  letter  H.  to  those  drawn  from  Herder,  the 
letter  R.  to  those  drawn  from  Ruckert.  All  the 
pieces  remaining,  in  addition  to  those  now  designated, 
are  to  be  ascribed,  under  the  conditions  before  stated, 
to  the  present  writer. 

With  small  pretensions,  with  fervid  interest  in  the 
subject,  this  humble  offering,  brought  from  the  altar 
of  the  Oriental  Muses,  and  laid  on  the  shrine  of 
American  Literature,  is  commended  to  the  kind  notice 
of  those  whose  curiosity  or  sympathy  responds  to  the 
fascination  of  Eastern  gorgeousness,  reverie,  and  pas- 
sion. 

An  edition  of  this  work,  numbering  sixteen  hundred 
copies,  was  published  in  1856.  It  is  now  out  of  print. 
The  present  edition  is  enlarged  by  considerable  new 
introductory  matter,  and  by  over  a  hundred  additional 
specimens ;  also,  by  an  Appendix  consisting  of  poems 
not  of  an  Oriental  character. 

Boston,  March,  1865. 


CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTION. 

PAGE 

Purposes  of  this  Essay, 3 

Desirableness  of  such  a  Work, 4 

Range  and  Variety  of  Eastern  Poetry,  ....      4 

Alliterations  ;  Puns  ;  Ingenious  Compositions  in  Geometrical 

Shapes, 5 

Immense  Amount  of  Eastern  Poetry, 7 

English  Translations  from  the  Eastern  Tongues,      .        .8-10 

Southey  and  Moore, 11 

French  Translations  from  the  Eastern  Tongues,  .  .  12 
German  Translations  from  the  Eastern  Tongues, .  .  .13 
Mirtsa  Schaflfy,  a  Living  Persian  Poet,      .        .        .        .         15 

Goethe's  West-Oestlicher  Divan, 16 

Oriental  Meti'ical  Forms,  16 

Comparison  of  Eastern  and  Western  Poetry,  .        .      17-21 

Peculiarities  of  Eastern  Literature, 22 

Chinese  Poetry, 23,  24 

Hebrew  Poetry, 25 

Dr.  Noyes's  Translations, 26 

The  distinctive  Hindu,  Persian,  Arab,  and  Sufi  Muses,       .        27 

The  Hindu  Drama, 28 

The  Ramayana,  Valmiki's  Epic, 29 

Episode  of  Rav ANA  AND  SitA, 30-36 

The  MahabhArata,  Vydsa's  Epic, 37 

The  Close  of  the  Mahabharata,  .        .        .38-44 

Arabian  Poetry, 45 

Freiligrath's  Picture  op  the  Desert,      .        .         .46-49 
Scenery  and  Life  of  Arabia,        ......        50 

The  Spirit-Caravan,        .        .        .        .        .        .50-53 


XVI  CONTENTS. 

The  Arabian  Maiden,  Horse,  and  Palm,    ....        53 

Persian  Poetry, 54 

The  Shah  Nameh  of  Firdousi,  55 

Firdousi's  Terrible  Satire  on  Mahmoud,  .  .  .  .56 
Bewildering  Luxury  of  Persian  Lyrics,  .  .  .  .57,58 
Jemscliid's  Cup,  Solomon's  Ring,  Iskander's  MiiTor,  .  .  59 
The  Three  Pairs  of  Persian  Lovers,  .         .         .         ,         60 

Episode  of  Ferhtid  in  Nisami's  Khosra  and  Shireen,  .  .61 
The  Five  Allegories  of  Hapless  Love,         ....        62 

The  Sect  of  Sufis, 63 

Their  Quietistic  Enthusiasm, 64 

The  Successful  Search,  a  Sufi  Poem,    .        .        .        .64 

The  Three  Stages  of  Piety, 66 

Mewlana  Dschelaleddin  Rumi, 66 

Inwardness  of  Sufism, 67 

The  Religion  of  the  Heart, 68 

Sufistic  Optimism, 69 

Death  the  Entrance  to  Ecstasy,     .        .        .        .        .         .70 

Characteristics  of  Oriental  Poetry. 

1.  Freedom  of  Imagination, 71 

2.  Copiousness  of  Comparison, 72 

3.  The  Apologue, 73 

The  Caliph  and  Satan,    .        .        .        .  74-77 

4.  Paradoxical  Figures, 78 

5.  Bacchic  and  Erotic  Imagery, 79 

6.  Metaphysical  and  Imaginative  Mysticism,      .         .         .80 

Distinction  between  Sentimentalist  and  Mystic,       .         80 
The  Contents  op  Piety, 81 

7.  Pantheism, 82 

8.  Profound  Feeling  of  Worldly  Evanescence,    .         .      83-85 

The  Eastern  Poet  a  Preacher, 86-88 

The  Festival, 89-91 

Apologetic  Justification  of  the  Present  Work,     ...         92 

Metrical  Specimens, 93-316 

Pieces  not  derived  from  Oriental  Sources  or 

Suggestions, 317-337 

Supplement  to  the  Fourth  Edition,    .        .        .  339-371 


Appendix  to  the  Fifth  Edition,  ....  373-392 


AN    INTRODUCTION 


TO 


ORIENTAL   POETRY. 


HISTORICAL    DISSERTATION. 


The  three  aims  of  this  essay  are,  to  convey  to  the 
reader  some  conception  of  the  vast  contents  of  the  im- 
perial treasure-house  of  Oriental  poetry;  to  present  a 
brief  sketch  of  the  labors  of  modern  scholars  towards 
bringing  this  unique  literature  to  the  acquaintance  of 
the  Occidental  world ;  and  to  give  an  illustrative  analy- 
sis of  the  distinguishing  characteristics  of  Arab,  Hindu, 
Persian,  and  Siifi  poems.  I  am  aware  that  I  shall  ac- 
comphsh  these  objects  imperfectly,  because  my  knowl- 
edge of  the  original  materials  has  been  obtained  through 
translations,  and  because  the  narrow  limits  within  which 
the  exposition  must  be  confined  will  not  allow  a  full 
detail  even  of  the  facts  and  illustrations  actually  in  my 
hands.  Still  I  hope  not  to  be  charged  with  presumption, 
and  ruled  out  of  the  literary  court  as  an  incompetent 
intruder,  however  incommensurate  my  performance 
may  be  wdth  the  theme ;  and  would  suggest,  in  depre- 
cation of  censure,  that  the  present  work,  inadequate  as 
it  is,  will  yet  meet  a  real  want,  and  perhaps  lead  to 
worthier  productions.  Those  who  feel  curiosity  on  the 
subject  will  gladly  own,  that  even  the  meagre  outline  of 


4  '      IJs^TRODUCTION   TO 

the  Eastern  Muse  given  here  is  better  than  nothing. 
It  comes  into  a  vacant  place  where  many  are  looking, 
and  therefore  may  be  welcomed,  although  it  very  in- 
completely fills  that  place.  Thousands  desire  to  know 
more  than  they  can  learn,  from  means  at  hand,  of 
that  wondrous  harvest  of  Oriental  thought,  sentiment, 
and  fancy,  from  which  scattered  blades,  fragmentary 
grains,  stray  blossoms,  are  occasionally  reaching  them : 
and  while  the  great  scholars,  the  front  reapers  in  this 
field,  do  not  drive  their  loaded  wains  to  our  Western 
mart,  the  humble  gleaner  may  not  be  stigmatized  as 
immodest  if  he  brings  forward  a  small  sheaf  of  speci- 
mens. Of  course,  at  the  best,  it  must  be  extremely 
inadequate  ;  for,  as  Dschelaleddin  says,  "**- 

A  flower-branch  of  the  garden  one  brings  to  the  town, 
But  brings  not  the  whole  garden  of  flowers  to  the  town. 

Oriental  poetry  includes  a  much  more  varied  range 
of  subjects  than  Occidental.  A  large  portion  of  the  re- 
ligious, metaphysical,  geographical,  philological,  histori- 
cal, and  mathematical  treatises  of  the  East  are  written 
in  measure  and  rhyme.  "  The  ancient  laws  of  the  race 
were  framed  in  verse,  and  sung  into  authority  as  the 
carmen  necessarium  of  the  state."  The  children's  school- 
books,  from  Mecca  to  Borneo,  from  Bagdad  to  Pekin, 
are  almost  invariably  composed  in  poetic  form.  A  sort 
of  catechism,  said  to  be  universally  used  in  the  Chinese 
seminaries  of  instruction,  commences  thus :  — 

All  men  at  birth  are  good  alike  at  root, 
But  afterwards  they  differ  much  in  fruit. 

"Wilford  ascribes  to  Vikramfiditya,  the  powerful  mon- 
arch at  whose  court    Kalidasa   flourished,  a  work   on 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  O 

Geography,  which  is  still  extant  in  manuscript,  in 
twenty  thousand  slokas.  There  seems  to  be  a  power- 
ful propensity  in  the  whole  Eastern  mind  to  a  measured, 
musical  utterance  filled  with  recurring  sounds.  And  so, 
in  one  rhetorical  form  it  sets  forth  the  subject-matter  of 
speculation  and  science,  observation  and  fancy,  alike, 
from  the  attenuated  theses  of  Buddha's  abysmal  philos- 
ophy, to  the  Poor  Richard  maxims  of  the  Confucian 
sages ;  from  the  prayers  to  Agni,  god  of  fire,  in  the 
oldest  Indian  Veda,  to  the  dry  etymological  disquisitions 
in  the  latest  Arabic  grammar.  Even  their  prose,  as  is 
remarkably  shown  in  the  Koran,  is  thickly  interspersed 
with  rhymes,  balanced  clauses,  and  pairs  of  jingling 
names.  Instead  of  Cain  and  Abel,  the  Arabs  say 
Abel  and  Kabel. 

A  noticeable  feature  in  Eastern  poetry  is  the  quirks, 
conceits,  puns,  alliterations,  with  which  much  of  it 
abounds.  Many  of  these  are  wrought  up  in  forms  of 
such  exceeding  difficulty,  that  their  elaboration  must 
have  cost  immense  pains,  as  well  as  ingenuity.  The 
construction  and  solution  of  riddles  is  a  favorite  exer- 
cise with  them.  These  patient  authors  have  composed 
acrostics,  whose  lines  read  the  same  forwards,  back- 
wards, upwards  and  downwards,  at  each  end,  and  through 
the  centre.  They  have  written  poems  in  lines  of  dif- 
ferent lengths,  and  so  arranged  as  to  constitute  the 
shapes  of  drums,  crosses,  circles,  swords,  trees.  The 
Alexandrian  rhetoricians  afterwards  amused  themselves 
in  a  similar  manner,  —  writing  cutting  satires  and  pier- 
cing invectives  in  the  form  of  an  axe  or  a  spear.  The 
Christian  monk^  of  the  Middle  Age  also  did  the 
same  thing ;  composing,  for  instance,  hymns  in  the  form 


INTRODUCTION    TO 


of  the  cross.  I  have  seen  an  erotic  triplet  composed 
by  a  Hindu  poet,  the  first  line  representing  a  bow,  the 
second  its  string,  the  third  an  arrow  aimed  at  the  heart 
of  the  object  of  his  passion. 


2 
■&. 

.     the    fairest     «; 

O  <§  V 

Those  charms  to  -win,  with  all  ray  empire  I  would  gladly  part. 

Some  account  of  these  curiosities  is  furnished  by 
Yates's  paper,  in  the  twentieth  volume  of  the  Asiatic 
Researches,  on  "  Sanscrit  Alliteration."  If  the  compar- 
ative degree  of  our  adjective  "  great "  were  spelt  in  the 
same  way  as  the  familiar  instrument  for  rubbing  nut- 
megs, the  following  lines  would  represent  the  equiva- 
lent of  a  satirical  pun  by  an  Indian  bard :  — 

Thy  voice's  melody  than  any  man's  is  greater ; 

It  tears  my  ear  as  would  the  scratching  of  a  grater. 


ORIENTAL   POETRY.  7 

But  perhaps  the  most  remarkable  example  of  literary 
ingenuity  the  world  can  afford  is  those  Sanscrit  poems 
wherein  all  the  words  have  a  double  sense,  —  as  our 
word  "  churn  "  may  be  read  either  as  a  noun  or  as  a  verb, 
—  so  that  two  propositions  are  enounced,  or  two  nar- 
ratives related,  at  once,  in  the  same  words.  It  would  be 
hard  to  exemplify  thi§  with  much  success,  or  at  much 
length,  in  English.  But  an  approximate  illustration 
may  be  obtained  if  we  suppose  all  the  corresponding 
words  in  the  two  following  lines  to  be  spelt  alike  while 
retaining  their  respective  significations :  — 

The  even  belle  thus  told  when  the  day's  red  course  was  all 

so  dun ; 
The  even  bell  thus  tolled  when  the  Dey's  dread  corse  was  also 

done. 
The  former  line  would  mean.  The  undisturbed  beauty 
narrated  some  incident  when  the  bright  path  of  the  sun 
had  grown  entirely  brown  in  twilight ;  the  latter.  The 
vesper-bell  was  pealing  a  funeral  chime  in  a  certain 
manner  when  the  awe-inspiring  form  of  the  dead  ruler 
of  Algiers  was  likewise  ready  for  burial ;  —  while,  alike 
to  ear  and  eye,  the  words  would  be  in  both  cases  identi- 
cally the  same. 

But  aside  from  these  rhymed  text-books  and  techni- 
cal artifices,  the  literature  of  the  Orient  is  astonishingly 
rich  in  poetry,  properly  so  called.  The  names  of  poets 
renowned  throughout  those  strange  and  crowded  climes 
are  to  be  reckoned  literally  by  the  thousand.  It  is 
thought  that  Persia  alone  has  produced  more  than 
twenty-five  thousand.  Poems  of  boundless  diversity 
of  subject  and  character,  possessing  peculiar  merits  of  a 
superior  order,  fill  volumes  amounting  to  hundreds  on 


8  INTRODUCTION   TO 

hundreds.  This  prodigious  realm  of  reflection  and 
imagination,  of  feeling  and  art,  remained,  until  within 
less  than  three  quarters  of  a  century,  a  terra  incog- 
nita^ a  world  shut  up  from  us.  Even  now  few  persons 
know  anything  more  of  its  extent  and  qualities  than  can 
be  gathered  from  the  little  fragments  occasionally  found 
in  the  corners  of  magazines  and  newspapers.  The 
present  general  ignorance  is  no  longer  a "  necessity. 
Materials  enough  have  been  imported  into  the  modern 
tongues,  by  scholars  who  have  come  freighted  back  from 
voyaging  over  the  sea  of  Eastern  languages,  to  afford 
quite  an  extensive  acquaintance  with  this  whole  prov- 
ince ;  though  those  materials  are  dispersed  in  numerous 
channels,  not  popularly  known  and  often  not  readily  ac- 
cessible. A  slight  account,  therefore,  of  what  has  been 
done  in  this  direction,  by  the  English,  the  French,  and 
the  Germans,  may  be  of  use. 

Sir  AYilliam  Jones  was  the  Vasco  de  Gama  who  first 
piloted  the  thought  of  Europe  to  these  Oriental  shores. 
It  was  on  one  of  his  earliest  expeditions  into  Sanscrit- 
land,  that  the  divining-rod  of  his  sensitive  genius,  flut- 
tering in  response  to  an  irresistible  attraction  towards 
the  veiled  and  unimaginable  mines  of  Indian  poetry, 
fastened  at  last,  by  magnetic  instinct,  upon  Sakiintala, 
the  master-piece  of  Kalidasa,  the  happiest  production  of 
the  Hindu  drama,  the  "  As  You  Like  It "  of  the  East- 
em  Shakespeare.  The  publication  by  him  of  this  beau- 
tiful play,  also  of  some  miscellaneous  Persian  odes,  and 
Brahminic  hymns,  and  of  his  famous  pioneer  essay  on 
the  "  Poetry  of  the  Eastern  Nations,"  attracted  the 
attention,  and  stimulated  the  labors,  of  many  scholars, 
both  in  Great  Britain  and  on  the  Continent,  and  led  to 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  9 

extensive  consequences.  He  was  the  first  President  of 
the  Royal  Asiatic  Society,  which,  by  its  roots  at  home 
and  its  branches  abroad,  has  since  done  so  much  to 
fructify  our  Western  Hterature  with  Oriental  sap  and 
grafts.  Scattered  notices  and  fragments  in  the  numer- 
ous volumes  of  the  "Asiatic  Researches,"  and  of  the 
"  Asiatic  Journal,"  furnish  a  great  variety  of  translated 
specimens  of  the  poetry  of  the  East,  and  a  valuable 
fund  of  general  information  on  the  whole  subject. 
Wilkins  early  published  a  prose  version  of  the  Bhagvat 
Gita,  a  long  metaphysical  episode  from  the  stupendous 
Indian  epic ;  of  which  also  a  new  translation  by  Thomp- 
son has  just  issued  from  the  press.  Milman  has  given 
us,  in  most  faithful  and  felicitous  verse,  another  episode 
from  that  vast  and  ancient  poem,  namely,  the  story  of 
Nala  and  Damayanta,  a  tale  of  the  rarest  interest, 
sweetness,  and  simplicity.  Professor  H.  H.  Wilson,  the 
distinguished  President  of  the  Royal  Asiatic  Society  of 
England,  whose  profound  lore  and  magnificent  pub- 
lished achievements  have  long  since  won  for  him  the 
admiring  reverence  of  scholars  throughout  the  world, 
gave  the  public,  twenty  years  since,  three  volumes  of 
Hindu  Plays.  He  has  also  printed  a  few  small  poems 
from  the  Sanscrit,  together  with  a  happy  metrical 
version  of  Kalidasa's  "  Megha-Duta,  or  Cloud-Messen- 
ger." The  title  of  the  latter  production  partly  indicates 
its  subject,  which  is  the  story  of  a  Yaksha,  or  mountain 
demigod,  who  loves  and  marries  an  Apsarasa,  or 
heavenly  nymph,  and  resides  with  her  in  the  celestial 
regions.  But  having  offended  Indra,  he  is  banished 
from  her  to  the  earth.  Disconsolate  and  pining,  he 
stands  on  a  lofty  peak,  gazing  towards  his  lost  paradise. 


10  INTRODUCTION    TO 

A  cloud  floats  over  him  in  tlie  direction  of  the  home  of 
the  Apsarasas.  lie  sends  a  message  bj  it  to  his  be- 
loved spouse :  and  so  the  plot  proceeds  to  the  desired 
sequel. 

There  is  a  volume  of  "  Specimens  of  Old  Indian 
Poetry  "  by  Griffiths ;  he  has  also  translated  Kalidasa's 
"  Birth  of  the  War-God."  Eastwick  has  presented  us 
with  a  beautiful  prose  version  of  the  Prem  Sagar,  or 
"  The  Ocean  of  Love,"  a  history  of  Krishna,  recounting 
the  adventures  of  Vishnu  during  his  incarnation  as  a  cow- 
herd-boy in  the  meadows  of  Gopala.  A  most  curious 
allegorical  drama,  called  "  The  Rising  of  the  Moon  of 
Intellect,"  likewise  exists  in  an  English  dress  by  Dr. 
Taylor.  The  Gulistan  or  "  Rose-Garden  "  of  Saadi  has 
appeared  successively  in  the  English  versions  of  Glad- 
win, Dumoulin,  Ross,  and  Eastwick.  Gladwin  trans- 
lated, in  addition,  Saadi's  Pund-Nameh  or  "  Compen- 
dium of  Ethics  " ;  and  a  philological  poem  entitled  "  Re- 
semblance Linear  and  Verbal."  Firdousi's  Shah-Nameh, 
the  great  Iranian  epic,  has  been  admirably  brought  into 
our  tongue,  in  a  form  of  mingled  prose  and  verse,  by 
Atkinson.  Episodes  from  this  famous  "  Book  of  Heroes  " 
had  been  previously  rendered  by  Champion,  Weston,  and 
Robertson.  Selections  of  the  lyrics  of  Hafiz  were  pub- 
lished in  English  verse  successively  by  Richardson,  Nott, 
and  Hindley.  Professor  Falconer  has  enriched  our 
literature  with  a  small  volume  of  characteristic  and  ex- 
quisite odes  and  fragments  from  the  Persian.  "The 
Rose-Garden  of  Persia,"  a  volume  by  Miss  Costello, 
contains  a  large  collection  of  interesting  metrical  pieces 
from  different  Persian  bards.  Milnes  has  embodied  a 
few  delightful  specimens  of  Oriental  thought  in  his  book 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  11 

of  "  Palm  Leaves."  And  in  Trench's  "  Poems  from 
Eastern  Sources  "  are  many  which  possess  remarkable 
beauty,  truth,  and  power.  Several  pieces  in  Bayard 
Taylor's  "  Poems  of  the  Orient "  scarcely  fall  below  any 
in  our  language  as  representative  expressions  of  the  real 
passion,  imagery,  and  form  of  the  Eastern  Muse.  The 
fifty-fourth  volume  of  the  Westminster  Review  has  a 
good  notice  of  Preston's  translation  of  the  great  Ara- 
bian poem,  the  Makamat  of  Hariri.  A  hundred  years 
ago  Professor  Chappelow  published  Tograi,  or  "  The 
Traveller,"  an  Arabic  poem.  There  is,  too,  a  volume 
by  Professor  Carlyle,  entitled  "  Specimens  of  Arabian 
Poetry,  from  the  Earliest  Time  to  the  Extinction  of 
the  Khaliphat." 

Southey  excited  interest  in  the  myths  of  India  by 
"Thalaba"  and  "The  Curse  of  Kehama,"  — justly 
among  the  most  popular  of  his  publications.  Their  my- 
thology and  their  descriptions  of  natural  scenery  are 
quite  true  to  the  Hindu  belief  and  clime ;  but  as  poetry 
they  are  utterly  remote  from  all  the  native  tones  of  the 
Sanscrit  lyre.  Moore's  famous  and  favorite  tale  of  Lalla 
Rookh  is  far  more  successful,  every  way,  in  reproducing 
the  breath  and  raiment  of  Asiatic  poesy.  The  Moslem 
and  Gheber  traditions  and  associations,  the  current  im- 
agery, local  form  and  color  of  the  Orient,  are  here  pre- 
served and  wrought  up  by  a  fancy  wholly  Persian  in  its 
revelHng  profuseness  and  felicity.  Not  the  very  genius 
itself  of  Iran's  own  soil  can  outvie,  in  exhaustless  wealth 
of  splendors  and  sweets,  the  cloying  witchery  of  beauty 
and  melody  that  crowds  the  pages  of  the  Irish  bard's 
"Lalla  Rookh,"  and  of  his  "Loves  of  the  Angels." 
The   lines   dissolve  in  voluptuous   languor   of  music; 


12 


INTRODUCTION   TO 


Oriental  superstitions  impregnate  the  thoughts  ;  and  as 
we  read,  or  listen,  visions  of  snowy  Peris,  red  wine- 
fountains  in  gushing  spouts,  porphyry  palaces,  golden 
domes,  and  birds  of  Paradise,  float  before  us,  and  a 
breeze  laden  with  perfumes  from  "  the  gardens  of  Gul 
in  their  bloom  "  is  wafted  to  our  nostrils. 

At  the  beginning  of  this  century,  Samuel  Rousseau 
published  "  Flowers  of  Persian  Poetry."  A  work,  too, 
of  a  good  deal  of  interest,  is  Broughton's  "  Popular 
Poetry  of  the  Hindoos."  More  recently  Eastwick  has 
given  us  a  fine  translation  of  "The  Anvari  Suhaili," 
the  Persian  version  of  the  Fables  of  Pilpay.  Professor 
Williams  has  printed  an  admirable  lecture  on  "  Indian 
Epic  Poetry,"  followed  by  an  analysis  of  the  Rama- 
yana,  and  a  summary  of  the  Mahabharata,  full  and 
exceedingly  instructive.  And  we  owe  to  Max  Miiller 
a  "  History  of  Sanscrit  Literature." 

A  glance  into  the  Oriental  section  of  French  bibliog- 
raphy will  show  that  the  eager  scholars  of  that  most 
intellectual  nation  have  largely  cultivated  this  branch 
of  literature.  I  shall  mention  only  a  few  of  the  more 
conspicuous  works.  The  Bhagavat  Purana,  or  Poetic 
History  of  Krishna,  was  published  at  Paris  in  1840,  in 
three  gigantic  folios,  in  arch-royal  style,  the  Sanscrit 
on  one  page,  and  a  translation  by  Burnouf  on  the 
other.  It  is  a  vast  repertory  of  adventures,  imagery, 
hymns,  metaphysics,  and  mythology.  The  History 
of  Hindu  and  Hindostanee  Literature  by  Garcin  de 
Tassy  includes  a  copious  anthology.  Tassy  is  the 
translator  of  "  The  Adventures  of  Kamrup,"  an  East- 
ern Ulysses,  —  a  poem  of  enormous  bulk,  and  teeming 
with  the  peculiarities  of  the  Hindu  mind.     He  has  also 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  13 

translated  and  edited  "  The  Pppular  Songs  of  India,  Re- 
ligious, Erotic,  National";  and  lie  has  published  a  unique 
little  treatise  on  "  The  Female  Poets  of  India."  Under 
the  names  of  De  Sacy,  Langlois,  Fauche,  and  Chezy,  in 
the  last  volume  of  Zenker's  "  Bibliotheca  Orientalis,"  the 
reader  will  find  such  further  notices  as  he  may  desire. 

The  Germans  have  transplanted  much  more  exten- 
sively than  the  English  or  the  French  from  this  wide 
and  winsome  field.  More  than  a  score  of  her  heroic 
scholars,  toiling  devotedly  in  this  long-neglected  depart- 
ment, have  enriched  the  mother  tongue  of  Germany 
with  copious  contributions  of  choice-culled  flowers  from 
the  Eastern  Muses,  and  made  the  names  of  Valmiki, 
Vyasa,  and  Kalidasa,  Firdousi,  Hafiz,  and  Saadi,  well- 
nigh  as  familiar  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine  and  beneath 
the  lindens  of  Vienna,  as  they  are  along  the  shores  of 
the  Ganges  and  amidst  the  kiosks  of  Shiraz.  Large 
portions  of  the  two  great  cycles  of  Indian  epic  poetry 
have  been  brought  into  their  own  vernacular  by  the 
Schlegels,  by  Holtzmann,  by  Wilmans,  and  by  Bopp. 
The  elder  Humboldt  also  published  an  important  crit- 
ical essay  on  this  subject,  which  attracted  much  atten- 
tion at  the  time.  An  entire  version  of  Firdousi  has 
appeared  in  German,  by  Schack,  besides  various  por- 
tions of  his  work  rendered  by  different  hands.  Tholuck 
translated  and  edited  a  "  Collection  of  Fragments  from 
Oriental  Mysticism,"  comprising  many  gems  of  rare 
light  and  wonderful  setting.  Herder  early  became 
quite  a  proficient  in  this  province  of  world-literature, 
and  his  works  contain  an  extremely  large  number  of 
short,  select  pieces  of  Hindu  wit,  wisdom,  and  imagina- 
tion.    Rosenzweig  printed  three  volumes  of  important 


14  INTRODUCTION   TO 

Persian  poems  by  different  authors  of  eminence.  Jo- 
seph von  Hammer,  known  later  as  Hammer  Purgstall, 
has  given  to  the  press  —  besides  a  Turkish  romantic 
poem  by  Fasli,  called  "  The  Rose  and  the  Nightingale," 
and  a  volume  of  precious  "  Fragments  by  an  Unknown 
Persian  poet,"  and  "  The  Divan  of  Baki,"  the  greatest 
Turkish  lyrist,  and  Schebisteri's  "  Rose-Field  of  Mys- 
tery," and  the  works  of  Motanebbi,  the  greatest  Arabic 
poet  —  a  history  of  Arabic  literature,  in  seven  huge 
volumes,  describing  the  works  of  ten  thousafnd  authors ; 
a  history  of  Persian  poetry,  with  extracts  from  two 
hundred  celebrated  poets  ;  and  a  voluminous  history  of 
Turkish  poetry,  with  extracts  from  twenty -two  hundred 
poets.  Hammer  Purgstall's  contributions  are  unrivalled 
in  quantity,  and  in  quality  their  merits  are  very  high, 
notwithstanding  the  somewhat  damaging  assaults  upon 
his  philological  pretensions  by  Von  Diez,  Fleischer,  and 
Weil.  Ruckert  likewise  has  added  greatly  to  the  wealth 
of  German  literature  by  his  innumerable  translations 
from  various  Oriental  tongues,  —  translations  which, 
for  literal  and  metrical  closeness  to  their  originals,  and 
for  singular  felicity  and  fire,  hold  supreme  rank.  His 
versions  of  short  poems  are  countless.  His  chief  works 
are  "  Hamasa,"  fifteen  hundred  of  the  oldest  Arabic  bal- 
lads, collected  by  Abu  Tamman ;  "  Metamorphoses  of 
Abu-Seid";  "Wisdom  of  a  Brahmin";  "Contemplation 
and  Edification  from  the  East "  ;  "  Brahminical  Tales." 
There  is  a  fine  rhymed  version  of  the  best  lyrics  of 
Hafiz  by  Daumer.  A  vast  mass  of  valuable  examples 
of  Oriental  poetry  —  reflection,  fancy,  feeling,  meta- 
phor, and  description  —  has  been  deposited  in  German 
speech  by  the  hands  of  Hartmann,  Kosegarten,  Arnold, 


ORIENTAL    POETRY. 


15 


Platen,  Hoefer,  Wolff,  Graf,  Bohlen,  Peiper,  Ewald, 
Miiller,  and  Heine.  The  titles  of  their  works  may  be 
found  under  their  names  in  the  Oriental  sections  of  the 
various  German  bibliographies.  Two  splendid  volumes 
of  Persian  poems,  "  The  Fruit-Garden  of  Saadi,"  and  the 
Fragments  of  Ibn  Jemin,  translated  by  a  learned  Ger- 
man lady,  Ottokar  Maria,  were  published  at  Vienna 
three  years  since.  And  a  version,  by  Dursch,  of  a  San- 
scrit poem,  called  "The  Shattered  Goblet,"  has  just 
appeared  in  thin  quarto  form.  Bodenstedt  not  long 
ago  published  a  charming  little  volume  of  the  "  Songs  of 
Mirtsa  Schaffy,"  a  living  poet,  under  whose  instruction 
the  translator  studied  Persian  literature,  at  Tiflis.  In 
1850  Bodenstedt  issued  an  account  of  his  travels  in  the 
East,  of  his  studies  with  Mirtsa  Schaffy,  and  his  obser- 
vations of  Asiatic  character  and  life.  It  is  called  "  A 
Thousand  and  One  Days  in  the  Orient,"  and  is  one  of 
the  most  charming  books  of  the  kind  ever  written. 
Especially  entertaining  and  peculiar  are  the  details 
given  in  it  of  the  mutual  criticisms  and  squibs  which 
passed  between  Mirtsa  Schaffy  and  Mirtsa  Jussuf, 
who  were  rival  teachers  of  Persian  at  Tiflis,  and  both 
of  whom  were  anxious  to  secure  the  patronage  of  the 
young  student  from  the  West.  Dr.  Jolowicz  also 
has  recently  issued  a  noticeable  collection  of  well- 
chosen  specimens  of  the  best  poetry  of  twenty  East- 
em  nations,  executed  by  a  large  number  of  distin- 
guished persons,  and  constituting  a  great  quarto  of  six 
hundred  and  fifty  pages,  called  "  Polyglot  of  Oriental 
Poetry." 

In  this  hasty  survey  the  name  of  Goethe  should  not  be 
omitted ;  for  he  has  done  much  to  acquaint  the  Western 


16  INTRODUCTION   TO 

world  with  some  peculiar  traits  of  the  poetry  of  the  East. 
His  "  West-Oestlicher  Divan"  is  a  series,  not  of  transla- 
tions, but  of  original  poems,  written  by  him,  in  the  spirit 
and  method  of  the  East,  after  he  was  past  sixty  years  of 
age.  Milnes,  certainly  a  competent  judge,  says  of  this 
work :  "Any  one  who  has  made  it  the  companion  of  his 
Eastern  tour  will  acknowledge  the  wonderful  success 
of  the  experiment,  and  feel  more  strongly  than  ever  the 
genius  of  that  consummate  artist,  to  whom  all  faiths  and 
feelings,  all  times  and  events,  seem  to  have  ministered, 
as  certain  of  being  well  understood  and  rightly  used  as 
if  their  master  had  been  Nature  itself.  He  will  feel  how 
truly  Riickert,  in  his  '  Eastern  Roses,'  has  sung  :  — 

'  Would  you  feast  on  purest  East, 
You  must  ask  it  of  the  selfsame  man 
Who  the  best  has  served  the  West 
With  such  vintage  as  none  other  can.' " 

The  metrical  literature  of  the  Oriental  languages 
admits  far  more  freedom  and  variety  of  movement  and 
measure  than  our  own.  The  laws  of  versification  es- 
tablished by  the  Indian  bards  include  three  distinct 
methods  of  measure ;  that  which  is  determined  by  time 
alone,  that  which  reckons  merely  by  syllables,  that 
which  is  divided  entirely  by  feet.  And  then  all  possi- 
ble combinations  of  the  foregoing  methods  of  rhythm 
are  allowed,  and  the  actual  diversity  of  metre  amounts 
literally  to  many  thousands.  This  interesting  point  is 
elaborately  explained  by  Colebrooke  in  a  long  paper  on 
"  Sanscrit  and  Pracrit  Poetry,"  in  the  tenth  volume  of 
the  Asiatic  Researches.  The  oldest,  simplest,  most 
commonly  adopted  measure  is  the  SloJca,  —  a  sixteen- 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  17 

syllable  line  divided  at  the  eighth  syllable.  There  is 
a  class  of  poems,  called  Ghazels,  comprising  a  large 
part  of  the  lyrics  of  the  East.  Its  law  is  that  the  first 
two  lines  rhyme,  and  for  tliis  rhyme  a  new  one  must  be 
found  in  the  second  line  of  each  succeeding  couplet,  the 
alternate  line  being  free.  These  poems  sometimes  con- 
tain forty  or  fifty  couplets.  Here  is  a  brief  specimen 
of  the  Ghazel  from  Trench's  Eastern  poems. 

THE   WORLD'S    UNAPPEECIATION. 

"  What  is  the  good  man  and  the  wise  ? 
Ofttimes  a  pearl  which  none  doth  prize ; 
Or  jewel  rare,  which  men  account 
A  common  pebble,  and  despise. 
Set  forth  upon  the  world's  bazaar, 
It  mildly  gleams,  but  no  one  buys. 
Till  it  in  anger  Heaven  withdraws 
From  the  world's  undiscerning  eyes : 
And  in  its  shell  the  pearl  again, 
And  in  its  mine  the  jewel,  hes." 

But  let  us  pass  from  form  to  life  and  substance.  It  is 
unfair  and  misleading  to  say,  with  indiscriminate  univer- 
sality, that  Oriental  poetry  is  thus.  Western  poetry  so  ; 
because,  among  the  immense  treasures  of  Eastern  litera- 
ture, gathered  by  its  native  bards  during  so  many  gen- 
erations, there  is  almost  every  conceivable  variety  of 
subject  and  treatment,  marked  by  almost  every  possible 
mode  and  degree  of  thought,  imagery,  and  emotion. 
Eastern  writing  is  not,  as  many  seem  to  think,  all  com- 
pact of  foolish  hyperbole,  petty  conceit,  and  mystic  jug- 
glery.    It  is  not  all,  as  many  of  the  specimens  most 


18  INTRODUCTION    TO 

circulated  might  lead  us  to  imagine,  in  the  strain  of 
"  He  lifted  his  head  from  the  collar  of  reflection,  drew 
aside  the  veil  of  silence,  and  strewed  the  pearls  of  his 
speech  to  the  bewildering  delight  of  his  auditors."  In 
its  different  departments,  though  it  is  indeed  often 
characterized  by  this  childish  profusion  of  weak  and 
huddled  metaphors,  it  yet  possesses  narrators  as  graph- 
ic in  precision  and  directness  as  Homer ;  eleglasts  as 
touching  in  clean  simplicity  of  conception  and  thouglit- 
ful  pathos  of  phrase  as  Simonides ;  epigrammatists  not 
a  whit  inferior  in  brevity,  point,  and  beauty  to  Callima- 
chus  ;  humorists  M^hose  sketches  and  colors  are  as  ad- 
mirable as  the  most  genial  of  Sterne's ;  satirists  whose 
lines  are  as  sharp-edged  as  the  most  cutting  of  Swift's  ; 
ethical  and  descriptive  poets  whose  hortatory  appeals, 
and  pictures  of  nature  and  life,  will  not  suffer  by  com- 
parison with  similar  productions  by  European  authors  of 
the  most  respectable  rank  at  the  piresent  time ;  thinkers 
as  profound  as  Plato,  as  subtile  as  Fichte ;  in  whose 
speculations  lie  the  germs,  and  many  of  the  develop- 
ments, of  every  philosophical  theory  now  known,  from 
Spinoza's  to  Locke's,  from  Berkeley's  to  Hegel's.  The 
truth  of  this  general  statement  might  easily  be  proved 
and  illustrated  by  citation  of  authorities  and  examples, 
if  that  were  needed  or  appropriate  in  this  connection. 
The  justice  of  it  will  be  recognized  at  once  by  all  who 
are  acquainted  with  the  translations  of  Von  Hammer 
and  Riickert,  and  with  the  Sankhya  and  Vedanta  sys- 
tems of  Hindu  metaphysics.  This  is  sufficient  to  show 
the  injustice  of  depicting  two  strongly  contrasted  faces, 
and,  pointing  out  their  unlike  lineaments,  exclaiming, 
Behold  there  the  Oriental,  here  the  Occidental  Muse ! 


ORIENTAI     POETRY.  19 

The  respective  literary  progeny  of  East  and  West 
often  closely  resemble  each  other  in  many  particulars 
by  mutual  or  alternate  approximation,  although  com- 
monly, as  we  should  naturally  expect,  there  are  certain 
family  features,  and  an  indefinable  expression,  distin- 
guishing them.  As  it  is  no  rare  thing  for  Asiatic  au- 
thors to  compose  like  European,  so  Europeans  frequent- 
ly write  in  the  fullest  vein  of  the  Asiatics.  Shake- 
speare out-orients  the  Orient  with  his  apostrophe  to 
"  eyes  that  do  mislead  the  morn."  What  inspired  child 
or  frantic  devotee  of  the  Persian  lyre  ever  transcended 
such  figures  as  "  flecked  Darkness  like  a  drunkard  reels 
from  the  pathway  of  day  as  gray-eyed  Morn  advances  " ; 
"  I  would  tear  the  cave  where  Echo  lies,  and  make  her 
airy  tongue  hoarse  with  repetition";  "Heaven  peeps 
through  the  blanket  of  the  dark";  and  ten  thousand 
other  images  equally  astonishing,  born  in  our  English 
speech  ?  Sir  William  Jones  strikingly  brings  together 
a  prose-translated  ode  of  the  Persian  Bulbul,  and  a  kin- 
dred ditty  of  the  British  Swan,  to  show  that  the  poetic 
imaginations  of  the  two  countries  are,  after  all,  not  so 
different  as  has  been  supposed.  According  to  our  poor 
versification,  thus  run  the  notes  of  the  splendid  Bulbul 
of  Shiraz  :  — 

Sweet  gale  !  my  love  this  fragrant  scent  has  on  thee  cast, 
And  thence  it  is  that  thou  this  pleasing  odor  hast. 
Beware  !     Steal  not ;  what  with  her  locks  hast  thou  to  do  ? 
O  rose  !  what  art  thou  when  compared  with  that  wliic;h  blew 
In  blush  upon  her  cheek  ?     She 's  fresh,  thou  'rt  rough  with 

thorns. 
Narcissus !  to  her  languid  eye,  as  blue  as  morn's, 
Thine  eye  is  sick  and  faint.     O  pine !  in  thy  high  place, 
What  honor  hast  thou  when  compared  with  her  shape's  grace  ? 


20  INTRODUCTION   TO 

Sweet  basil !  know'st  thou  not  her  lips  are  perfect  musk, 
Whilst  withered,  lifeless,  scentless,  thou  shalt  lie  at  dusk  ? 
O  come,  my  love !  and  charm  poor  Hafiz  with  thy  stay. 
Even  if  thou  linger'st  with  him  but  for  one  short  day. 

And  then  thus  in  unison  chimes  the  strain  of  the  won- 
drous Swan  of  Avon:  — 

"  The  forward  violet  thus  did  I  chide  : 
Sweet  thief !  whence  didst  thou  steal  thy  sweet  that  smells, 
If  not  from  my  love's  breath  ?     The  purple  pride. 
Which  on  thy  soft  cheek  for  complexion  dwells, 
In  my  love's  veins  thou  hast  too  grossly  dyed. 
The  lily  I  condemned  for  thy  hand ; 
And  buds  of  marjoram  had  stolen  thy  hair ; 
The  roses  fearfully  on  thorns  did  stand, 
One  blushing  shame,  another  white  despair ; 
A  third,  nor  red  nor  white,  had  stolen  of  both, 
And  to  his  robbery  had  annexed  thy  breath : 
But  for  his  theft,  in  pride  of  all  his  growth, 
A  vengeful  canker  eat  him  up  to  death. 
More  flowers  I  noted,  yet  I  none  could  see, 
But  scent  or  color  it  had  stolen  from  thee." 

The  two  antipodal  realms  of  poetry  often  coalesce, 
and  reflect  each  other  in  corresponding  products,  spring- 
ing from  similar  exercise  of  like  faculties,  and  contem- 
plation of  the  same  phenomena,  and  impulses  of  iden- 
tical experience.  The  human  heart  is  like  a  harp  borne 
through  many  lands,  in  every  place,  when  played  on 
by  the  fingers  of  nature,  time  and  fate,  love,  hope  and 
grief,  yielding  the  same  tones,  though  variously  colored 
by  the  different  associations  of  scene  and  race  amidst 
which  they  softnd,  and  variously  echoed  by  the  different 
temperaments  and  objects  upon  which  they  strike.    It  is 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  21 

also  true,  that,  especially  of  late  years,  innumerable  im- 
ages, fancies,  modes  of  reflection,  and  tinges  of  senti- 
ment have  found  their  way  from  the  immemorial  plains 
of  Hindostan,  the  vales  of  Cashmere,  and  the  cities  of 
Arabia,  to  our  modern  and  far-away  minds  and  books. 
"  The  seeds,  there  scattered  first,  flower  in  all  later 
pages."  Verily,  as  Milnes  has  happily  rendered  Goe- 
the's thought, 

"  Many  a  light  the  Orient  throws, 
O'er  the  midland  waters  brought ; 
He  alone  who  Hafiz  knows 
Knows  what  Calderon  has  thought." 

Still  we  may  say,  in  general,  in  regard  to  the  distinc- 
tion between  the  light  literature  of  Asia  and  that  of  Eu- 
rope, that  they  do,  for  the  most  part,  greatly  differ  in  the 
religions,  philosophies,  mythologies,  traditions,  customs, 
names,  scenery,  costumes,  and  ruling  aims  reflected  in 
them  respectively.  And  it  must  be  owned  by  every 
one,  that  the  East  is,  in  a  striking  degree,  more  poetic 
—  that  is,  more  gorgeous,  sensitive,  passionate,  subtile, 
and  mysterious  —  than  the  West.  It  is  to  us  what 
wine  is  to  water,  the  peacock  to  the  hen,  the  palm  to 
the  pine,  the  orange  to  the  apple. 

"  Eastward  roll  the  orbs  of  heaven, 
Westward  tend  the  thoughts  of  men  ; 
Let  the  poet,  nature-driven, 
Wander  eastward  now  and  then  " ;  — 

for  who  would  appreciate  the  poem  must  travel  in  the 
poet's  land,  and  on  every  such  excursion  the  lyric  heart 
will  find  itself  at  home  in  that  region,  for  it  is  native 
there.     Humanity  was  cradled  in  the  nest  of  dawn,  and 


22  INTRODUCTION    TO 

a  secret  current  in  our  souls  still  turns  /  and  flows  to- 
wards mankind's  natal  star,  standing  above  Eden, over 
the  birth-spot  of  Adam.  Whoso  would  plunge  into  the 
primal  font  of  poesy,  and  bathe  his  soul  in  the  very  elixir 
of  immortal  freedom,  must  not  turn  his  face  after  the 
sun  in  the  circhng  course  of  industrial  empire,  — 

"  But  crowd  the  canvas  on  his  bark, 
And  sail  to  meet  the  morning." 

We  think  of  the  East  as  the  home  of  magic  and 
wonder,  the  misty  birthplace  of  wisdom,  the  haunted 
shrine  of  an  antique  civilization,  crowded  with  mazy  im- 
mensities of  human  experience  before  the  gates  of  Tad- 
mor  were  swung,  or  the  crown  of  Palmyra  had  been  so 
much  as  dreamed  of  It  rises  in  our  thoughts  with  its 
dim-swarming  peoples,  now  sunk  fibreless  in  soft  seas  of 
sense,  now  frenetic  with  superhuman  inspiration,  as  a 
kingdom  whose  hills  are  ribbed  with  silver  shafts,  its 
streams  bedded  with  golden  sand,  its  trenched  ravines 
lined  with  pebbling  diamonds,  the  edge  of  its  strands 
covered  with  coral,  the  floor  of  its  bays  strewed  with 
pearls,  the  breath  of  its  meadows  odorous  with  myrrh, 
its  flowering  trees  of  perennial  green  and  bloom  ever 
sagging  with  delicious  fruit,  cool  fountains  spouting  in 
every  court,  and  entranced  bulbuls  warbling  on  every 
spray.  Its  geographical  features  and  its  intellectual 
conceptions,  alike,  are  on  a  scale  of  prodigious  grandeur 
whose  vastitude  crushes  the  power  of  sense,  but  pro- 
vokes Imagination  to  the  fullest  expansion  of  her  cloudy 
wings.  Its  Ganges  encounters  the  ocean  with  a  shock 
that  shakes  the  globe,  and  its  Dhawalaghiri  makes  Olym- 
pus but  little  better    than  a  wart ;    its   banyan   over- 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  23 

shadows  armies  and  flourishes  a  thousand  years ;  its  cos- 
moofonies  dwarf  the  huo;est  dreams  of  Greece  and  Scan- 
dinavia ;  in  the  background  of  its  legends  stalk  deities 
to  whom  Jupiter  Tonans  and  Hammering  Thor  are 
Lilliputian  dandies  ;  and  its  annals  enclose  eons  of 
epochs  in  which  successive  universes  exist  and  perish 
like  breaths  in  a  frosty  air.  The  poetry  we  should  ex- 
pect, and  have  found,  is  as  the  clime,  —  vast  in  mystery, 
warm  with  passion,  far-vistaed  with  reverie,  rich  in 
jewels,  redolent  with  perfumes,  brilliant  in  colors,  inex- 
haustible in  profusion. 

The  metrical  compositions  of  the  Chinese  are  of 
three  kinds  in  subject,  scarcely  ever  varying  from  a 
certain  ethical  moderation  of  thought,  or  going  beyond 
a  prosaic  level  of  emotion,  though  sometimes  displaying 
wit  of  a  quite  excellent  mirth.  The  first  sort  of  Chinese 
poetry  consists  of  simple  moral  tales  with  admonitory 
applications.  The  second  consists  of  the  aphoristic  ex- 
pressions of  a  shrewd  observation  and  a  cunning  judg- 
ment.    Such  as  the  striking  couplet, 

"  Who,  in  politeness,  Lokman,  was  thy  guide  ? 
The  unpolite  !  the  learned  sage  replied." 

Or  such  as  this  proverb,  by  one  of  their  most  renowned 

mandarins  :  — 

Who  sues  a  mite 
Will  catch  a  bite. 

The  following  is  one  of  the  sentences  of  Confucius 
himself:  — 

Wisdom  brings  joy,  clear  as  a  crystal  fountain  : 
Virtue  brings  peace,  firm  as  an  iron  mountain. 

The  third  is  composed  of  feeling  reflections  on  human 


24  INTRODUCTION    TO 

life,  of  which  a  fair  example  may  be  found  in  the  fol- 
lowing fragment  of  an  address  to  the  people  by  an 
aged  governor  on  leaving  office :  — 

When  I  look  backward  o'er  the  field  of  fame, 
Where  I  have  travelled  a  long  fifty  years, 
The  struggle  for  ambition,  and  the  sweat 
For  gain,  seem  altogether  vanity. 

The  SJd-King,  one  of  the  five  sacred  books  which 
stand  at  the  head  of  the  Chinese  literature,  is  a  collec- 
tion of  lyrical  poems,  three  hundred  and  eleven  in  num- 
ber, selected  by  Confucius  from  a  much  larger  number 
existing  in  his  time,  as  most  worthy  of  preservation. 
I'hey  belong  mainly  to  the  epoch  1122-650  B.  C;  a 
few,  however,  claim,  and  doubtless  with  justice,  to  date 
from  1766-1123  B.  C,  and  are  accordingly  among  the 
very  earliest  poetical  productions  of  the  human  race  still 
preserved.  They  are  in  part  of  popular  origin,  ballad- 
like ;  partly  satires,  or  panegyrics  upon  persons  high  in 
station ; '  partly  hymns  recited  at  the  offerings  to  the 
dead.  Their  poetic  value  is  very  unequal,  but  they  far 
exceed,  upon  the  whole,  most  of  the  lyric  productions  of 
later  ages,  containing  not  infrequently  noble,  unartificial 
feelings  expressed  in  a  style  of  simple  majesty  and  inim- 
itable energy. 

The  next  poetical  work  in  the  Chinese  literature  is  the 
Ts^u-Tsse\  ascribed  to  the  fourth  century  before  Christ, 
and  to  a  single  author,  but  probably  the  work  of  dif- 
ferent authors  at  different  times.  It  contains  moral 
declamations  in  poetic  language,  but  no  proper  poetical 
compositions.  Nothing  farther  appears  until  the  period 
A.  D.  618-906,  when  a  much  more  artificial  construe- 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  "  25 

tion  of  verse  was  introduced,  and  when  an  astonishing 
number  of  lyric  poets  appeared.  A  single,  great  col- 
lection, pubhshed  by  imperial  command  in  l707,  con- 
tains the  poems  of  more  than  a  thousand  poets  and  po- 
etasters of  this  period,  giving  the  biography  also  of 
each  one,  and  a  critical  examination  of  his  works.  The 
productions  of  this  period  are  regarded  as  models  for 
all  subsequent  times.* 

Palestinian  poetry  needs  no  illustration  here  by  ex- 
amples, because  it  is  already  universally  accessible  and 
familiar.  The  grand  national  characteristic  of  the 
Hebrew  Muse  is  fervent  rational  piety,  based  on 
the  bounded  intellectual  conception  of  a  personal  God, 
whose  favor  towards  his  children  depends  on  the  two 
conditions  of  his  own  disinterested  love,  and  their  moral 
qualities.  The  spirit  and  sum  of  Hebrew  poetry  are 
certainly  the  loftiest,  purest,  richest,  the  whole  ancient 
world  affords.  Arabic  literature,  including  its  boasted 
Koran,  is  challenged  to  exhibit  a  production  which  can 
rival  the  story  of  the  Idumsean  patriarch  in  beautiful 
argument,  imaginative  sublimity,  and  descriptive  -  elo- 
quence. In  all  the  Persian  tongue's  erotic  wealth  no 
Anacreontic  idyl  can  at  all  approach  the  Song  of  Songs, 
which  is  Solomon's.  No  Hindu  sage  has  wrought  such 
a  peerless  mine  of  apothegmatic  wisdom  as  the  man- 
ual of  proverbs  by  the  young  Judaean  king,  at  whose 
feet  the  far-come  queen  of  Sheba  fell,  crying,  "  The  half 


*  I  am  indebted  for  the  latter  part  of  the  foregoing  sketch  to 
the  kindness  of  Professor  W.  D.  "Whitney,  whose  labors,  in  con- 
nection with  Dr.  Roth,  in  editing  the  Atharva  Veda,  are  an  honor 
to  American  scholarship. 


26  INTRODUCTION    TO 

was  not  told  me."  No  Greek  or  Roman  moralist  has 
ever  sung  the  experience  and  enforced  the  lesson  of  a 
sensualist's  life  in  such  solemn  lines  and  freighted  peri- 
ods, with  such  melancholy  refrain,  and  such  divine  con- 
clusion, as  the  author  of  Ecclesiastes.  And  beyond  all 
emulation  stand  the  religious  hymns  sung  in  Zion  to  the 
harp  of  David  as  the  monarch-minstrel  swept  its  chords. 
There  is  no  speech  nor  language  where  their  voice  is  not 
heard,  and  their  words  have  gone  out  to  the  end  of  the 
world.  Their  echoes  have  floated,  and  will  float,  amidst 
the  heart-strings  of  uncounted  generations  of  exulting, 
sorrowing,  confessing,  worshipping  humanity.  And 
what  is  there  in  the  most  thrilling  strains  of  the  whole 
earth  besides,  to  equal  the  martial  ardor,  the  terrible 
pomp,  the  all-marshalling  imagination,  in  the  warlike 
bursts  and  inspired  improvisations  that  drop  burning 
from  the  lightning  lyres  of  Isaiah  and  Habakkuk, 
amidst  visions  of  meteor  standards,  staggering  armies 
with  garments  rolled  in  blood,  melting  hills,  falling 
stars,  and  a  darkened  universe  !  To  those  who  would 
really  appreciate  Hebrew  poetry.  Dr.  Noyes's  transla- 
tions deserve  to  be  emphatically  commended  for  the 
faithful  purity  with  which  they  render  the  original  into 
Saxon  speech  of  crystal  clearness.  His  translation  is 
far  more  literal,  concise,  properly  divided,  and  intelligi- 
ble than  the  common  version,  and  his  notes  are  admira- 
bly judicious  in  rendering  all  needed  helps. 

It  is  the  purpose  of  the  present  work  to  illustrate 
the  poetry  of  the  three  great  families  occupying  South- 
ern and  Western  Asia,  stretching,  on  the  upper  ex- 
tremity, from  the  Black  Sea  to  Samarcand;  on  the 
lower,  "from  Sumatra  to  the    Straits   of  Babelmandel. 


ORIENTAL    rOETRY.  27 

These  families  are  the  Hindus,  the  Arabs,  and  the 
Persians,  including  under  the  last  head  the  Turks, 
as  possessing  the  same  imaginative  type  and  literary 
traits.  The  subjects  common  to  all  their  metrical  au- 
thors, and  upon  which  the  poetic  lore  of  each  of  the 
countries  has  an  enormous  quantity  of  productions,  are 
philosophical  meditations,  moral  parables,  fanciful  tales, 
old  traditions,  feats  and  adventures  of  heroes  and  trav- 
ellers, pure  creations  of  imagination,  love-odes,  theo- 
sophic  musings,  religious  hymns,  descriptions  and  moral- 
izings  of  natural  phenomena,  and  such  like.  But  while 
the  three  peoples  have  certain  themes  and  styles  of 
treatment  in  common,  each  also  has  some  subjects  and 
a  prevailing  spirit  peculiar  to  itself. 

The  doctrine  of  the  metempsychosis,  which  saturates 
so  much  of  the  literature  of  the  East  with  its  manifold 
influences,  —  its  ascetic  aims  and  painful  penances  re- 
ducing all  life  to  a  ritual  system,  —  properly  belongs  to 
the  Indian  race.  That  luxuriousness  and  indolence  and 
Epicurean  proclivity  which  we  so  often  associate  with 
the  Orient,  are  Persian.  But  martial  movement,  bound- 
ing arteries,  indefatigable  activity,  love  of  perilous  enter- 
prise, thirsting  rage,  are  Arab.  The  first  may  be  rep- 
resented by  the  Elephant,  the  second  by  the  Gazelle,  the 
third  by  the  Lion.  The  Hindu  Muse  is  pre-eminently 
characterized  by  pensiveness,  love  of  meditation.  Her 
children  see  everything  reflected  in  reverie.  The  world 
is  suspended  in  Maya,  or  illusion,  and  they  mildly  think 
upon  it.  The  Arab  Muse  is  pre-eminently  characterized 
by  an  ardent  ohjectivity,  active  passion,  freedom  from 
morbid  introspectiveness.  Her  children  love  outward 
things,  deeds,  descriptions.     Their  stories  are  of  the 


28  INTRODUCTION    TO 

headlong  race  across  Sahara,  encounters  with  the  lion, 
or  smiting  a  foe.  The  sap  in  their  trees  seems  blood, 
and  the  blood  in  their  veins  fire.  The  Persian  Muse  is 
pre-eminentlj  characterized  by  dehcacy  of  sensation.  A 
vital  fancy,  now  finical  in  its  conceits,  now  world-grasp- 
ing in  its  illumined  dilation,  is  over  and  through  all  her 
works.  Victor  Hugo,  in  his  "  Les  Orientales,"  says 
"  the  Persians  are  the  Itahans  of  Asia."  There  is  a 
fourth  Muse  in  these  countries,  differing  essentially  from 
the  foregoing ;  not  confined  to  either  clime,  but  having 
the  freedom  of  each,  and  reckoning  as  her  servants  a 
large  class  of  the  most  gifted  poets  in  them  all.  I  refer 
to  Siifism,  whose  pre-eminent  characteristic  is  an  intense 
subjectivity.  Her  adherents  turn  all  faculties  inwards 
in  concentred  abstraction,  and  heighten  their  conscious- 
ness till  it  is  lost  in  boundless  identification.  Thought 
and  sensation,  transfused  and  molten,  flow  through  form- 
less moulds  into  ecstasy. 

The  Hindus  possess  a  distinguishing  treasure  in  their 
drama.  The  most  charming  specimen  of  this  known 
to  us  as  yet  is  Sakuntala,  —  an  episode  drawn. from  the 
Mahabharata,  and  constructed  by  Kalidasa,  of  which 
a  fresh  translation  by  Professor  Williams  has  but  now 
been  published,  in  a  volume  of  profuse  beauty  and  cost- 
liness. Goethe  paid  this  play  the  following  magnificent 
compliment :  — 

Wouldst  thou  the  blossoms  of  the  spring,  the  autumn's 
fruits, 

Wouldst  thou  what  charms  and  thrills,  wouldst  thou  what 
sates  and  feeds, 

Wouldst  thou  the  heaven,  the  earth,  in  one  sole  word  com- 
press ? 

I  name  Sakijntala,  and  so  have  said  it  all. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  29 

There  are  two  cycles  of  Hindu  traditions  and  myths, 
wrought  up,  unknown  ages  ago,  into  two  tremendous 
epics  ;  the  elder,  the  Ramayana,  attributed  to  Valmiki, 
the  other,  the  Mahabharata,  ascribed  to  Vyasa.  The 
Ramayana  is  a  history  of  the  avatar  or  incarnation  of 
Vishnu  in  human  shape,  to  deliver  the  world  from  a 
gigantic  demon,  Ravana,  who  was  tyrannizing  over 
mankind,  and  had  extended  his  power  into  the  lower 
heavens.  By  terrible  penances  he  had  wrought  from 
Brahma  the  promise  that  no  mortal  being  should  de- 
stroy him.  Upon  this  he  began  openly  to  oppress  all 
the  good  in  his  dominions,  and  to  promote  the  impious. 
The  curtain  rises,  and  the  action  begins  with  a  solemn 
conclave  of  the  gods  on  the  summit  of  Mount  Meru. 
The  senate  of  the  Indian  Olympus  is  filled  with  dismay 
at  the  invincible  power  bestowed  on  the  tyrant  by 
Brahma's  promise.  At  last  Vishnu  advances,  and 
offers  to  be  born  as  a  man,  to  vanquish  the  common 
enemy.  The  next  scene  is  on  earth,  at  the  court  of 
Ayodhya,  where  King  Dasaratha  finds  himself  in  old 
age  without  a  son  to  succeed  him.  A  saint  advises 
him  to  perform  the  celebrated  sacrifice  of  a  horse,  the 
Aswamedha.  He  does  so,  and  his  three  wives  bear 
him  four  sons,  the  eldest,  Rama,  being  Vishnu  himself. 
Rama  has  a  great  many  adventures  while  his  youth  is 
passing,  but  at  last  is  about  to  inherit  the  throne,  when 
he  is  supplanted  and  banished  for  fourteen  years.  His 
wife,  Sita,  and  his  brother  Lakshmana  accompany  him. 
A  long  account  follows  of  the  scenes  and  occurrences  of 
their  wanderings.  Finally  they  settle  in  a  deep  forest, 
Rama  and  Lakshmana  spending  their  time  in  hunting 
beasts   and  chasing  the  demons.     In  Rama's  absence 


30  INTRODUCTION    TO 

Havana  discovers  the  cottage,  and  carries  Sita  away  to 
his  own  abode.  The  disconsolate  husband  searches  the 
peninsula  in  vain ;  but  meeting  a  tribe  of  apes^  whose 
king,  Sugriva,  had  been  deprived  of  his  crown,  Rama 
restored  it  to  him,  and  the  grateful  monkey-monarch 
sent  a  multitude  of  his  people  to  find  Sitd.  After  much 
useless  wandering,  one  of  Sugriva's  messengers  discov- 
ered Sita  imprisoned  in  Havana's  palace,  and  brought 
the  tidings  to  Rama,  who  immediately  set  out  with  an 
army  of  apes  for  the  Fouthernmost  point  of  India,  off 
whose  coast  the  island-home  of  the  tyrant  lay.  The 
apes  threw  Titanic  rocks  into  the  sea,  until  they  made 
a  bridge  to  the  island.  Then  Rama  passed  over  with 
his  forces,  and,  after  a  dreadful  battle,  killed  the  demon, 
scattered  his  subject  fiends,  and  rescued  his  beloved 
spouse.  Returning  to  Ayodhya  with  his  wife  and  his 
faithful  brother,  his  lawful  kingdom  is  given  to  him, 
and  the  work  ends.  Within  this  vague  outline  innu- 
merable branching  episodes  and  details  are  included, 
which  give  the  poem  a  most  varied  charm  and  value. 
I  will  now  give  an  epitome,  from  a  very  valuable 
article  on  "  Indian  Epic  Poetry,"  in  the  October  number 
of  the  Westminster  Review  for  1848,  of 

HAVANA'S  CAPTURE  OF  SIT  A. 

I. 

"  Lakshmana,  grieved  at  Sita's  words,  no  longer  undecided 

stood, 
But  hied  him  forth  in  Rama's  search,  and  left  her  in  the 

lonely  wood. 
With  many  a  dark  presentiment  fast  gathering  round,  and 

unknown  fear, 


ORIENTAL    POETRT.  31 

In  the  deep  forest-paths  he  roved,  Uke  one  who  roves  he 

wists  not  where. 
And  now  that  thus  the  golden  deer  had  lured  the  brothers 

both  away, 
Eavana  deemed  within  himself  the  hour  was  come  to  seize 

his  prey. 
There  he  beheld  the  dame  forlorn,  left  in  that  cottage  all 

alone, 
As  upon  earth  is  left  a  gloom,  when  meet  eclipsed  the  sun 

and  moon : 
And  while  upon  her  form  he  gazed,  so  fair  in  such  a  dreary 

spot, 
Thus  to  himself  the  tyrant  spoke,  as  he  surveyed  the  lonely 

cot: 
*  While  she  is  left  with  husband  none,  with  brother  none,  to 

hear  her  cries. 
Why  longer  stay  ?  the  time  is  come  to  claim  and  seize  my 

rightful  prize.' 
Thus  having  pondered  in  his  heart,  Ravana  left  his  hiding- 
place. 
And  walked  where  Sita  sorrowing  sat,  clothed  in  a  wander- 
ing beggar's  dress. 
Threadbare  and  red  his  garment  was,  th'  ascetic's  tuft  of  hair 

he  wore. 
And  the  three  sticks  and  water-pot  in  his  accursed  hand  he 

bore. 
As  he   drew  near,   the  lofty  trees,   that  over  Janasthana 

grow, 
And  every  twining  creeper-plant  which  hangs  and  climbs 

from  bough  to  bough, 
And  every  bird  and  every  beast,  stood  motionless  with  silent 

dread. 
Nor  dared  the  summer  wind  to  breathe,  nor  shake  a  leaflet 

overhead. 
Over  Godavery's    bright  wave  a  shiver  darkened    as  he 

passed. 


32  INTRODUCTION   TO 

And  bird  and  beast  in  terror  fled,  as  on  he  came  in  evil 
haste, 

With  his  black  heart  and  beggar's  garb,  disguised  and  hidden 
as  he  was, 

Like  a  dark  well,  whose  unseen  brink  is  overgrown  with 
waving  grass. 

Hard  by  tlie  cottage-door  he  stood,  and  gazed  upon  his  vic- 
tim fair, 

As  there  she  sat  in  woful  plight,  lost  in  a  maze  of  grief  and 
fear, 

Eeft  of  her  husband,  and  with  gloom  o'ershadowed  like  a 
moonless  sky, 

Weeping  alone  in  silent  woe,  and  musing  o'er  that  unknown 
cry. 

On  her  he  gazed,  and  that  fair  face  seemed  ever  fairer  and 
•  more  bright ; 

And  his  stern  eye,  awhile  absorbed,  lingered  as  loath  to  lose 
the  sight. 

Fierce  passion  woke  within  his  heart,  until  at  length,  with 
softened  air, 

He  thus  addressed  her  as  she  sat,  shining,  a  golden  statue 
there : 

'  O  thou,  that  shinest  like  a  tree  with  summer  blossoms  over- 
spread, 

Wearing  that  woven  husa  robe,  and  lotus  garland  on  thy 
head. 

Why  art  thou  dwelhng  here  alone,  here  in  this  dreary  for- 
est's shade, 

Where  range  at  will  all  beasts  of  prey,  and  demons  prowl 
in  every  glade  ? 

Wilt  thou  not  leave  thy  cottage  home,  and  roam  the  world, 
which  stretches  wide,  — 

See  the  fair  cities  which  men  build,  and  all  their  gardens, 
and  their  pride  ? 

Why  longer,  fair  one,  dwell'st  thou  here,  feeding  on  roots 
and  sylvan  fare, 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  33 

When  thou  miglit'st  dwell  in  palaces,  and  earth's  most  costly 
jewels  wear  ? 

Fearest  thou  not  the  forest  gloom,  which  darkens  round  on 
every  side  ? 

Who  art  thou,  say,  and  whose,  and  whence,  and  wherefore 
dost  thou  here  abide  ? ' 

When  first  these  words  of  Ravana  broke  upon  sorrowing 
Sita's  ear, 

She  started  up,  and  lost  herself  in  wonderment  and  doubt 
and  fear ; 

But  soon  her  gentle,  loving  heart  threw  off  suspicion  and  sur- 
mise. 

And  slept  again  in  confidence,  lulled  by  the  mendicant's  dis- 
guise. 

'  Hail,  holy  Brahmin  ! '  she  exclaimed  ;  and,  in  her  guileless 
purity. 

She  gave  a  welcome  to  her  guest  with  courteous  hospitality. 

Water  she  brought  to  wash  his  feet,  and  food  to  satisfy  his 
need, 

Full  little  dreaming  in  her  heart  what  fearful  guest  she  had 
received. 

II. 

"  Then  having  pondered  on  his  words,  after  a  pause  she  made 

reply. 
And,  in  her  guileless  confidence,  unbosomed  all  her  history : 
How  Rama  won  her  for  his  bride,  and  brought  her  to  his 

father's  home, 
And  how  another's  jealousy  had  cast  them  forth,  the  woods 

to  roam ; 
All  her  full  heart  she  opened  then,  and  all  her  husband's 

praise  she  spoke. 
And  long  she  lingered  o'  er  the  tale,  and  all  the  memories 

which  it  woke. 
*And  thou  too, 'Brahmin,*  she  exclaimed,  'thy  name  and 

lineage  wilt  thou  say  ? 


34  INTRODUCTION   TO 

And  wherefore  thou  hast  left  thy  land,  in  pathless  Dandaka 
to  stray  ? 

Erelong  my  husband  will  return ;  to  him  are  holy  wander- 
ers dear, 

And  fair  the  welcome  which  he  gives,  whene  'er  their  path- 
way leads  them  here.' 

Then  answered  her  the  demon-king,  '  My  name  and  lineage 
thou  shalt  hear, 

And  wherefore  in  this  guise  I  come,  and  wander  in  this  forest 
drear. 

Thee,  Sita,  am  I  come  to  see,  —  I,  at  whose  name  heaven's 
armies  flee. 

The  demon-monarch  of  the  earth,  I,  Ravana,  am  come  to 
thee! 

I  come  to  woo  thee  for  my  queen ;  in  Lanka  stands  my  palace 
home. 

High  on  a  mountain's  forehead  built,  while  round  it  breaks 
the  ocean's  foam. 

There  like  dark  clouds  my  demons  stand,  my  mandates 
through  the  earth  to  bear ; 

There  shalt  thou  worshipped  be  like  me,  and  all  my  world- 
dominion  share.' 

In  sudden  wrath  outburst  she  then,  the  wife  of  Raghu's 
princely  son. 

And  gushed  indignant  from  her  lips  the  answer  to  that  evil 
one : 

'  Me  wouldst  thou  woo  to  be  thy  queen,  or  dazzle  with  thine 
empire's  shine  ? 

And  didst  thou  dream  that  Rama's  wife  could  stoop  to  such 
a  prayer  as  thine  ? 

/,  who  can  look  on  Rama's  face,  and  know  that  there  my 
husband  stands, 

My  Rama,  whose  high  chivalry  is  blazoned  through  a  hun- 
dred lands  ! 

What !  shall  the  jackal  think  to  tempt  the  lioness  to  mate 
with  him  ? 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  35 

Or  did  the  king  of  Lanka's  isle  build  upon  such  an  idle 

dream  ? 
He  who  would  enter  Rama's  home,  and  think  to  tear  his  wife 

away, 
Might  beard  the  lion  in  its  den,  and  rob  its  hunger  of  its 

prey; 
Or  safer  far  her  new-born  cubs  from  the  fierce  tigress  might 

he  wrest, 
Or  in  his  garment  wrap  the  flame,  and  fold  and  nurse  it  to 

his  breast ! ' 
Stung  to  the  heart  by  Sita's  words,  the  foe  in  silence  folds 

his  hands. 
And   at   that  lonely  cottage  door  a  mendicant  no   longer 

stands : 
'T  is  but  a  moment,  and  behold !  bursting  from  out  th'  as- 
sumed disguise, 
Before  her  towers  the  demon-king,  with  his  black  brow  and 

glaring  eyes, 
In  his  dark  crimson  garment  wrapt,  and  his  black  frown  of 

passion  wearing. 
While  she,  the  helpless,  stood  beneath,  with  her  fair  face  and 

gentle  bearing. 
'  Sita,  wilt  thou  reject  me  noiu  ?    In  mine  own  shape  I  speak 

to  thee. 
Behold  thine  utter  helplessness,  and  dream  not  to  escape 

from  me. 
Nor  dream  to  call  thine  husband's  aid,  nor  measure  his  poor 

strength  with  mine, — 
Mine,  that  has  conquered  land  and  sea,  and  could  forbid  the 

sun  to  shine  ! 
Afar  to  my  own  stately  realm,  behold  !  I  bear  thee  hence 

away, 
There  to  forget  the  banished  man,  the  husband  of  a  former 

day!' 
He  spoke,  and  lowered  his  darkening  brows,  as  lowers  the 

storm-cloud  in  the  sky, 


36  INTRODUCTION   TO 

While  from  beneath  came  flashing  forth  the  lightnings  of  his 

awful  eye ; 
On  her  they  fell,  and  seemed  to  scorch  her  gentle  features 

with  their  glare. 
As  high  aloft  he  bore  her  up,  —  one  hand  amid  her  long 

fair  hair, 
The  other  underneath  her  lay,  —  loudly  she  shrieked  in  utter 

woe, 
*  My  husband,  husband,  sav'st  thou  not  ?  and  Lakshmana,  O 

where  art  thou  ? ' 
As  they  beheld  his  awful  form  come  striding  through  the 

sunny  glades. 
The  forest's  deities,  alarmed,  fled  to  its   deepest,  darkest 

shades. 
On,  ever  on,  he  bore  his  prize,  until  at  length  he  soared  on 

high. 
And,  as  an  eagle^ bears  a  snake,  flew  with  his  burden  through 

the  sky. 
'  0  Rama  !  Rama ! '  loud  she  cries, '  where  wanderest  thou  in 

Dandaka  ? 
And  seest  thou  not  the  demon  arm,  which  bears  thy  Sita 

far  away  ? 
Well  may  the  jealous  foe  rejoice,  who  robbed  thee  of  thy 

father's  throne. 
And  sent  us  from  thy  father's  court  to  roam  these  weary- 
woods  alone ! 
O  Janasthana's  flowering  bowers,  whilom  my  happy  haunts, 

farewell ! 
When  Rama  to  his  cot  returns,  his   sorrowing  Sita's  story 

tell ! 
And  you,  ye  trees,  that  blossom  there,  and  gladden  the  dark 

forest  gloom, 
O  tell  him,  tell  him  Rarana  Jiath  stolen  his  Sita  from  his 

home ! 
And  thou,  my  loved  Godavery,  where  I  whilom  so  oft  have 

strayed, 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  37 

And  watched  thy  flocks  of  water-fowl,  and  heard  their  wild 
songs  as  they  played  ; 

Let  thy  sad  waters  murmur  it,  as  home  he  wanders  by  thy 
shore, 

And  tell  him  with  their  mournful  plash  that  Sita  meets  his 
steps  no  more  ! 

And  you  too,  upon  you  I  call,  ye  blissful  guardians  of  the 
woods, 

Ye  happy  sylvan  deities,  who  roam  amidst  their  solitudes  ! 

O  give  him  tidings  of  my  fate,  and  tell  him,  as  he  roams  for- 
lorn, 

The  fell  swoop  of  the  demon-king  hath  Sita  from  his  dwell- 
ing torn ! 

Well  knows  my  heart,  with  instincts  true,  he  will  pursue  his 
lost  one's  track, 

Though  to  the  kingdoms  of  the  dead  he  must  descend  to 
bring  her  back.'" 

The  Mahabharata  contains  two  hundred  thousand  six- 
teen-syllable  lines,  and  fills  four  thick  quarto  volumes. 
Its  proper  subject,  which  is  a  war  waged  for  the  throne 
of  India,  between  the  sons  of  two  brothers,  Pandu  and 
Dhritarashtra,  is  buried  under  an  enormous  accumula- 
tion of  legends  and  heterogeneous  lore.  The  work 
is  therefore  an  inexhaustible  repository  of  the  mythical 
materials,  the  philosophy  and  the  fiction  of  India.  The 
clew  —  which  so  often  seems  to  be  lost  in  these  interpo- 
lations, ranging  from  Krishna's  metaphysics  to  Arjuna 
in  the  Bhagvat  Gita,  to  the  transparent  simplicity  of 
beauty  in  the  matchless  tale  of  Nala  —  is  always  skil- 
fully resumed,  and  the  whole  plot  is  evolved  to  the 
reader's  entire  satisfaction  at  last.  Indeed,  to  my  mind, 
the  closing  passage  of  the  Mahabharata,  take  it  for  all 
in  all,  is  the  culminating  point  of  the  poetic  literature  of 


88  INTRODUCTION    TO 

the  world.  The  following  abstract  of  it  is  from  the 
writer  in  the  Westminster  Review  already  referred  to. 

"We  know  of  no  episode,  even  in  the  Homeric 
poems,  which  can  surpass  its  mournful  grandeur,  or 
raise  a  more  solemn  dirge  over  the  desolation  of  the 
fallen  heart  of  man.  Yudishthira  has  won  the  throne, 
and  his  enemies  are  all  fallen ;  and  an  inferior  poet 
would  have  concluded  the  story  with  a  pasan  upon  his 
happiness. 

"  Yudishthira  learns,  after  his  victory,  that  the  throne 
for  which  he  haa  suffered  so  much  leaves  him  as  unsat- 
isfied and  hungry  as  before.  The  friends  of  his  youth 
are  fallen,  and  the  excitement  of  contest  is  over.  In 
gloomy  disappointment,  he  resigns  his  crown,  and,  with 
his  brothers  and  Draupadi,  sets  out  on  a  forlorn  journey 
to  Mount  Meru,  where  Indra's  heaven  lies,  amongst  the 
wilds  of  the  Himalayas,  there  to  find  that  rest  which 
seems  denied  to  their  search  upon  earth. 


"  Having  heard  Yudlshthira's  resolve,  and  seen  the  destruc- 
tion of  Krishna, 

The  five  brothers  set  forth,  and  Draupadi,  and  the  seventh 
was  a  dog  that  followed  them. 

Yudishthira  himself  was  the  last  that  quitted  Hastinapura ; 

And  all  the  citizens  and  the  court  followed  them  on  their 
way. 

But  none  felt  able  to  say  unto  him,  '  Return  ' ; 

And  at  length  they  all  went  back  unto  the  city. 

Then  the  high-souled  sons  of  Pandu  and  far-famed  Drau- 
padi 

Pursued  their  way,  fasting  and  with  their  faces  turned  to- 
wards the  east, 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  39 

Resolved  upon  separation  from  earth,  and  longing  for  release 

from  its  laws  ; 
They  roamed  onward  over  many  regions,  and  to  many  a 

river  and  sea. 
Yudishthira  went  before,  and  Bhima  followed   next  behind 

him, 
And  Arjuna  came   after  him,  and   then   the   twin  sons   of 

Madri, 
And  sixth,  after  them,  came  Draupadi,  with  her  fair  face  and 

lotus  eyes. 
And  last  of  all  followed  the  dog,  as  they  wandered  on  till 

they  came  to  the  ocean. 
But  Arjuna  left  not  hold  of  his  heavenly  bow, 
Lured  by  the  splendor  of  its  gems,  nor  of  those  two  heavenly 

arrows : 
And  suddenly  they  saw  Agni  standing  like  a  mountain  before 

them,  — 
Standing  in  gigantic  form,  and  stopping  up  their  path ; 
And  thus  to  them  spoke  the  god :  '  O  sons  of  Pandu,  do  you 

know  me  not  ? 

0  Yudishthira,  mighty  hero,  knowest  thou  not  my  voice  ? 

1  am  Agni,  who  gave  that  bow  unto  Arjuna ; 

Let  him  leave  it  here  and  go,  for  none  other  is  worthy  to 
bear  it. 

For  Arj  Una's  sake  I  stole  that  bow  from  Yaruna,  the  ocean- 
god; 

Let  Gandhiva,  that  best  of  bows,  be  given  back  to  ocean 
again  ! ' 

Then  the  brothers  all  besought  Arjuna  to  obey ; 

And  he  flung  the  bow  into  the  sea,  and  he  flung  those  im^ 
mortal  arrows; 

And  lo  !  as  they  fell  into  the  sea,  Agni  vanished  before 
them. 

And  once  more  the  sons  of  Pandu  set  forth,  with  their  faces 
turned  to  the  south. 

And  then  by  the  upper  shore  of  the  briny  sea 


40  INTRODUCTION   TO 

They  turned  toward  the   southwest,  and  went  on  in  their 

way. 
And  as  they  journeyed  onwards,  and  came  unto  the  west, 
There  they  beheld  the  old  city  of  Krishna,  now  washed  over 

by  the  ocean  tide. 
Again  they  turned  to  the  north,  and  still  they  went  on  in 

their  way. 
Circumambulating  round  the  continent,  to  find   separation 

from  earth. 

II.      ^ 

"  Then,  with  their  senses  subdued,  the  heroes,  having  reached 

the  north. 
Beheld,  with  their  heaven-desiring  eyes,  the  lofty  mountain 

Hi  ma  vat. 
And  having  crossed  its  height,  they  beheld  the  sea  of  sand. 
And  next  they  saw  rocky  Meru,  the  king  of  mountains. 
But  while  they  were  thus  faring  onwards,  in  eager  search  for 

separation, 
Draupadi  lost  hold  of  her  hope,  and  fell  on  the  face  of  the 

earth ; 
And  Bhima  the  mighty,  having  beheld  her  fall. 
Spoke  to  the  king  of  justice,  looking  back  to  her,  as  there 

she  lay : 
'  No  act  of  evil  hath  she  done,  that  faultless  daughter  of  a 

king; 
Wherefore,  then,  O  conqueror !  hath  she  fallen  thus  low  on 

the  ground  ? ' 
And  thus  to  him  answered  Yudishthira :  '  Too  great  was  her 

love  for  Arjuna, 
And  the  fruit  thereof,  O  Bhima !  hath  she  here  gathered  this 

day.* 
Thus  speaking,  Bharata's  glorious  descendant  went  onwards, 

not  looking  back. 
Gathering  up  his  soul  in  himself  in  his  unstooping  wisdom 

and  justice. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  41 

Next  the  fair  Sahadeva  fell  upon  the  face  of  the  earth, 
And  Bhima,  beholding  him  fall,  thus  spake  to  the  king : 
'  O  Yudishthira,  7«e,  the  greatest,  the  least  froward  and  wil- 
ful of  us  all, 
He,  the  son  of  fair  Madri,  —  wherefore  hath  he  fallen  on  the 

ground  ? ' 
And  him  thus  answered  Yudishthira :  '  He  esteemed  none 

equal  to  himself; 
This  was  his  fault,  and  therefore  hath  the  prince  fallen  this 

day.' 
Thus  speaking,  he  left  Sahadeva,  and  went  on, 
Yudishthira,  king  of  justice,  with  his  brothers  and  the  dog. 
But  when  Nakula  saw  the  fall  of  Draupadi  and  his  brother, 
The  hero,  full  of  love  for  his  kindred,  in  his  grief  fell  down 

like  them  to  the  earth. 
And  when  Nakula,  the  fair-faced,  had  thus  fallen  like  the 

others. 
Once  more,  in  his  wonder,  spoke  Bhima  unto  the  king: 
'  What !  he,  the  undeviating  in  virtue,  ever  true  to  his  honol* 

and  faith. 
Unequalled  for  beauty  in  the  world,  —  hath  he  too  fallen  on 

the  ground  ? ' 
And  him  thus  answered  Yudishthira :  '  Ever  was  the  thought 

in  his  heart. 
There  is  none  equal  in  beauty  to  me,  and  I  am  superior  unto 

all! 
Therefore  hath  Nakula  fallen.    Come,  Bhima,  and  follow  my 


Whatsoever  each  hath  done,  assuredly  he  eateth  thereof.' 

And  when  Arjuna  beheld  them  thus  fallen  behind  him. 

He  too,  the  great  conqueror,   fell,  with  his  soul  pierced 

through  with  sorrow ; 
And  when  he,  the  lion-heart,  was  fallen,  like  Indra  himself  in 

majesty,  — 
When  he,  the  invincible,  was  dead,  once  more  Bhima  spoke 

unto  the  king : 


42  INTRODUCTION   TO 

'  No  act  of  evil  do  I  remember  in   all  that  Arjuna  hath 

done; 
Wherefore  then  is  this  change,  and  why  hath  he  too  fallen  on 

the  ground  ?  ' 
And  him  thus  answered  Yudishthira :  '  "  In  one  day  I  could 

destroy  all  my  enemies,"  — 
Such  was  Arjuna's  boast,  and  he  falls,  for  he  fulfilled  it  not ! 
And  he  ever  despised  all  warriors  beside  himself : 
This  he  ought  not  to  have  done,  and  therefore  hath  he  fallen 

to-day/ 
Thus  speaking,  the  king  went  on,  and  then  Bhima  himself 

next  fell  to  the  earth  ; 
And  as  he  fell,  he  cried  with  a  loud  voice  unto  Yudishthira : 
'  O  king  of  justice,  look  back  !    I  —  I,  thy  dear  brother^  am 

fallen ; 
What  is  the  cause  of  my  fall  ?     O  tell  it  to  me  if  thou  know- 

est ! ' 
Once  more  him  answered  Yudishthira  :  '  When  thou  gazedst 

on  thy  foe, 
Thou  hast  cursed  him  with  thy  breath ;  therefore  thou  too 

fallest  to-day.' 
Thus  having  spoken,  the  mighty  king,  not  looking  back,  went 

on, 
And  still,  as  ever,  behind  him  went  following  his  dog  alone ! 

III. 
"  Lo !  suddenly,  with  a  sound  which  rang  through  heaven  and 

earth, 
Indra  came  riding  on  his  chariot,  and  he  cried  to  the  king, 

'  Ascend ! ' 
Theriy  indeed,  did  the  lord  of  justice  look  back  to  his  fallen 

brothers. 
And  thus  unto  Indra  he  spoke,  with  a  sorrowful  heart : 
*  Let  my  brothers,  who  yonder  lie  fallen,  go  with  me  ; 
Not  even  unto  thy  heaven  would  I  enter,  if  they  were  not 

there. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  43 

And  yon  fair-faced  daughter  of  a  king,  Draupadi  the  all- 
deserving, 
Let  her  too  enter  with  us  !     O  Indra,  approve  my  prayer !  * 

INDRA. 

'  In  heaven  thou  shalt  find  thy  brothers,  —  they  are  already 

there  before  thee ; 
There  are  they  all,  with  Draupadi ;  weep  not,  then,  O  son  of 

Bharata ! 
Thither  are  they  entered,  prince,  having  thrown  away  their 

mortal  weeds ; 
But  thou  alone  shalt  enter  still  wearing  thy  body  of  flesh/ 

YUDISHTHIRA. 

*  O  Indra,  and  what  of  this  dog  ?     It  hath  faithfully  followed 

me  through ; 
Let  it  go  with  me  into  heaven,  for  my  soul  is  full  of  compas- 
sion.' 

INDRA. 

'  Immortality  and  fellowship  with  me,  and  the  height  of  joy 
and  felicity, 

All  these  hast  thou  reached  to-day :  leave,  then,  the  dog  be- 
hind thee.' 

YUDISHTHIRA. 

'  The  good  may  oft  act  an  evil  part,  but  never  a  part  like 

this ; 
Away,  then,  with  that  felicity  whose  price  is  to  abandon  the 

faithful!' 

INDRA. 

'  My  heaven  hath  no  place  for  dogs  ;  they  steal  away  our  of- 
ferings on  earth : 

Leave,  then,  thy  dog  behind  thee,  nor  think  in  thy  heart  that 
it  is  cruel.' 

YUDISHTHIRA. 

*  To  abandon  the  faithful  and  devoted  is  an  endless  crime,  like 

the  murder  of  a  Brahmin  ; 


44  INTRODUCTION   TO 

Never,  therefore,  come  weal  or  woe,  will  I  abandon  yon 

faithful  dog. 
Yon  poor  creature,  in  fear  and  distress,  hath  trusted  in  my 

power  to  save  it : 
Not,  therefore,  for  e'en  life  itself  will  I  break  my  plighted 

word.' 

INDRA. 

'  If  a  dog  but  beholds  a  sacrifice,  men  esteem  it  unholy  and 
void ; 

Forsake,  then,  the  dog,  O  hero,  and  heaven  is  thine  own  as  a 
reward. 

Already  thou  hast  borne  to  forsake  thy  fondly  loved  broth- 
ers, and  Draupadi ; 

Why,  then,  forsakest  thou  not  the  dog  ?  Wherefore  now  fails 
thy  heart  V ' 

YUDISHTHIRA. 

*  Mortals,  when  they  are  dead,  are  dead  to  love  or  hate,  —  so 

runs  the  world's  belief; 
I  could  not  bring  them  back  to  hfe,  but  while  they  lived  I 

never  left  them. 
To  oppress  the  suppliant,  to  kill  a  wife,  to  rob  a  Brahmin, 

and  to  betray  one's  friend. 
These  are  the  four  great  crimes ;  and  to  forsake  a  dependant 

I  count  equal  to  them.' 

"  Yudishthira  then  enters  heaven  ;  but  one  more  trial 
awaits  him.  He  finds  there  Duryodhana  and  the  other 
sons  of  Dhritarashtra,  but  he  looks  in  vain  for  his  own 
brothers.  He  refuses  to  stay  in  the  Svv^erga  without 
them,  and  a  messenger  is  sent  to  bring  him  where  they 
are.  He  descends  to  the  Indian  hell,  and  finds  them 
there ;  and  he  proudly  resolves  to  stay  with  them  and 
share  their  sorrows,  rather  than  dwell  in  heaven  without 
them.  But  the  whole  scene  was  only  a  maya,  or  illusion, 
to  prove  his  virtue ;  —  the  sorrows  suddenly  vanish,  — 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  45 

the  wsurroundlng  hell  changes  into  heaven,  where  Yu- 
dishthira  and  his  brothers  dwell  with  Indra,  in  full  con- 
tent of  heart,  for  ever." 

To  the  impressed  imaginations  and  touched  hearts  of 
those  who  have  read  this  wonderful  poem,  Hastinapura 
is  a  grander  name  than  Troy,  and  Dhritarashtra,  Pan- 
du,  Yudishthira,  Arjuna,  Bhima,  Kama,  Damajanta, 
Draupadi,  and  Savitri  are  clothed  with  a  subhme  fas- 
cination of  interest  far  transcending  that  which  invests 
the  highest  personages  of  Grecian  epic  and  tragedy. 
I  will  cite  but  one  brief  fragment  more,  a  picture  which 
Tike  a  quick,  broad  flash  lights  up  to  our  ignorance  the 
dark  stage  and  canvas  of  the  Hindu  fancy.  A  Brah- 
min suddenly  enters  the  arena,  amidst  the  clang  and 
confusion  of  a  tournament :  notice  what  an  instant 
"  hush  follows,  both  in  the  din  of  the  crowd  and  in  the 
mind  of  the  reader." 

"  With  the  noise  of  the  musical  instruments,  and  the  eager 
noise  of  the  spectators, 

The  din  of  the  assembly  rose  up  like  the  roaring  of  the  sea, 

When,  lo !  wearing  his  white  raiment,  and  the  white  sacrifi- 
cial cord, 

With  his  snow-white  hair  and  his  silvery  beard,  and  the 
white  garland  round  his  head, 

Into  the  midst  of  the  arena  slowly  walked  the  Brahmin  with 
his  son, 

Like  the  sun  with  the  planet  Mars  in  a  cloudless  sky." 

The  Arabians  have  a  unique  kind  of  poems  called 
Moallaca.  It  receives  its  name  from  the  seven  prize 
poems  written  in  gold  and  "  suspended  "  in  the  temple  of 
Mecca,  —  the  Pleiades  in  the  heaven  of  Arabic  poetry. 
This  poem  must  commence  with,  describing  in  mournful 


46  INTRODUCTION    TO 

Strain  the  ruins  of  a  house  or  the  deserted  site  of  a  tent, 
where,  in  an  earlier,  happier  time,  the  poet  was  blessed 
with  the  presence  of  his  beloved.  Next  the  poet  pro- 
ceeds to  paint  in  glowing  imagery  the  beauty  and  the 
merits  of  his  courser  or  his  camel.  And  the  composi- 
tion closes  with  a  description  of  some  scene  in  nature,  a 
shower,  a  moon-rise,  or  a  landscape.  These  three  par- 
ticulars being  introduced  in  their  proper  order,  the 
author  is  free  to  weave  in  with  them  any  story,  reflec- 
tions, or  moral  he  pleases.  It  is  very  singular  that 
these  conditions  of  the  Moallaca  are  all,  in  a  manner, 
fulfilled  in  the  book  of  Job,  —  the  ruin  of  his  eldest  son's 
house  with  the  destruction  of  his  family,  the  famous 
panegyric  of  the  horse,  the  description  of  constellations, 
thunder,  and  a  whirlwind.  A  fine  example  of  Arab 
scenery  and  life  is  given  in  the  following  poem  by 
Freiligrath.  The  translation  is  by  a  writer  in  the  Pros- 
pective Review. 

THE  PICTURE   OF  THE  DESERT. 

"  A  picture,  good  !  my  brow  I  shade  within  the  hollow  of  my 

hand ; 
The  curtains  of  mine  eyes  I  close  !  —  Lo,  there  the  desert's 

burning  sand, 
The  camping-places  of  my  tribe,  appear ;  arrayed  in  lurid 

light, 
Robed  in  her  burning  widow-weeds,  Sahara  bursts  upon  my 

sight. 

"  Who  travelled  through  the  lion-land  ?     Of  claws  and  hoofs 
the  prints  appear ; 
Timbuctoo's  caravan !    Behold,  far  in  the  distance  gle 
the  spear ; 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  47 

There  banners  wave,  while  through  the  dust  the  Emir's 

purple  floats  along, 
And  with  a  sober  stateliness  the  camel's  head  o'erpeers  the 

throng. 

"  Where  sand  and  sky  together  blend,  onward  in  close  array 

they  sweep ; 
Now  the   horizon's   sulphurous   mist  ingulfs   them   in   its 

lurid  deep ; 
The  vestige  broad  thou  still  canst  trace  distinctly  of  the 

flying  train, 
As  gleam,   at   intervals,    dispersed,   their   relics   o'er   the 

sandy  plain. 

*'  Look  yonder !  like  a  milestone  grim,  a  dromedary  dead  lies 

there ; 
Upon  the  prostrate  bulk  are  perched,  with  naked  throats, 

a  vulture  pair ; 
Intent  upon  their  ghastly  meal,  for  yon  rich  turban  what 

care  theyf 
By  some  young  Arab  left  behind  in  that  wild  journey's 

desperate  way  ? 

"  Fragments  of  costly  housings  float   the  tamarisk's  thorny 

bushes  round ; 
And  near,  an  empty  water-skin  lies  foul  and  gaping  on  the 

ground ; 
Who 's  he  who  treads  it  'neath  his  feet  ?    The  Sheik  it  is, 

with  dusky  hair. 
The  Sheik  of  Biledulgerid,  who  gazes  round  with  frantic 

stare. 

"  He  closed  the  rear ;  his  charger  fell ;  behind  he 's  left  upon 
the  sand : 
O'ercome  with  thirst,  his  favorite  wife  doth  from  his  girdle 
drooping  hang ; 


48  INTRODUCTION  TO 

How  flashed  her  eye  as  she  erewhile  in  triumph  rode  before 

her  lord ! 
Across  the  waste  he  trails  her  now,  as  from  a  baldric  trails 

a  sword. 

"  The  burning  sand,  swept  o'er  at  night  by  the  grim  lion's 

tail  alone, 
Is  by  the  waving  tresses  now  of  yonder  helpless  woman 

strown ; 
It  gathers  in  her  tangled  locks,  dries  on  her  lip  the  spicy 

dew, 
And  with  its  sharp  and  cruel  flints  her  tender  skin  it  pierces 

through. 

"  And  now,  alas !  the  Emir  fails.  —  Throbs  in  his  veins  the 

boiling  blood, 
His  eyeballs  glare,  —  in  lurid  lines  swells  on  his  brow  the 

purple  flood ! 
With  one  last  kiss,  one  burning  kiss,  he  wakes  to  life  his 

Moorish  bride. 
Then  flings  himself,  with  frantic  curse,  on  the  red  desert  by 

her  side. 

"  But  she,  amazed,  looks  wildly  round.     '  My  lord,  awake! 

Thou  sleepest  here  ? 
The  sky,  but  now  like   molten   brass,  like  polished  steel 

gleams  cold  and  clear. 
Where  now  the  desert's  yellow  glare  ?     A  radiance  gleams 

mine  eyes  before. 
It  sparkles  like  the  sea,  whose  wave  at  Algiers  breaks  along 

the  shore. 

"  '  Its  grateful  moisture  cools  my  brow ;  —  yonder  its  flowing 
waters  gleam ;  — 
A  giant  mirror,  there  it  shines ;  —  awake !  perchance  't  is 
Nilus'  stream ; 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  4i9 

Yet  no,  we  travelled  south  I  'm  sure ;  the  Senegal  it  then 

must  be ;  — 
Or  are  yon  heaving  waves  indeed  the  billows  of  the  surging 

sea? 

"  '  No  matter !  it  Is  water  still !     Awake,  my  lord  !  O  let  us 

hence ! 
My  robe  I  Ve  cast  aside  ;  O  come,  this  deadly  scorching  fire 

to  quench ! 
A  cooling  draught,  a  quickening  bath,  will  with  new  strength 

our  limbs  indue ; 
Yon  towering  fortress  once  achieved,  to  all  our  toils  we  '11 

bid  adieu ! 

"  '  Its  crimson  banners  proudly  wave  defiance  round  its  por- 
tals grey ; 

Its  ramparts  bristled  o'er  with  spears,  —  its  mosques  within, 
—  I  all  survey ; 

High-masted  vessels  in  the  roads  securely  ride,  in  stately 
rows ; 

Its  shops  and  caravansaries  a  crowd  of  pilgrims  overflows. 

" '  My  tongue  is  parched  !  Wake  up,  beloved !  Already  nears 

the  twilight  now  ! ' 
He  lifts  his  eye,  and  murmurs  hoarse,  '  It  is  the  desert's 

mocking  show ! 
More  cruel  than  the  hot  Simoom !     Of  wicked  fiends  the 

barbarous  play  — ' 
He  stops,  —  the  baseless  vision  fades,  —  she  sinks  upon  his 

Hfeless  clay." 

The  passion  of  love  is  copiously  treated  by  the  bards 
of  Arabia ;  their  works  on  this  subject  abound  with  as- 
tonishing images,  and  are  filled  with  a  fire  of  tenderness 
beyond  all  rivalry.     One  poet  says  to  his  mistress  :  '  In 


50  INTRODUCTION   TO 

the  day  of  resurrection  all  the  lovers  shall  be  ranged 
under  my  banner,  all  the  beauties  under  thine."  An- 
other says  of  his :  "  One  night  she  spread  forth  three 
locks  of  her  hair,  and  so  were  exhibited  four  nights 
together."  Shemselnihar  takes  a  lute  and  sings  :  "  The 
sun  beams  from  thine  eyes,  the  Pleiades  shine  from 
thy  mouth,  and  the  full  moon  rises  from  the  upper  bor- 
der of  thy  vest.  From  the  model  of  thy  form  hath 
God  originated  beauty,  and  the  fragrance  of  the  zephyr 
from  thy  disposition." 

The  descriptive  power  and  fidelity  of  Arabic  poetry 
in  setting  forth  both  the  life  of  the  people  and  the 
scenery  of  the  clime  are  remarkable.  It  conjures  up 
visions  of  tawny  brows,  flowing  beards,  soft  eyes,  pic- 
turesque turbans,  pawing  chargers,  and  patient  drome- 
daries. We  seem  to  be  there.  It  is  the  land  of  the 
date-tree  and  the  fountain,  the  ostrich  and  the  giraffe, 
the  tent  and  the  caravan.  It  is  the  home  of  the  simoom 
and  the  mirage.  It  is  the  world  of  the  desert  and  the 
stars^  Hospitality  waves  her  torch  through  the  night 
to  win  the  wanderer  to  be  a  guest.  Reeking  vengeance, 
with  bloodshot  eyes  and  dripping  blade,  dashes  by  "  on 
a  stallion  shod  with  fire."  The  very  picture,  embodi- 
ment, breath,  blaze,  of  all  this  is  in  the  lyrics  of  the 
Bedouin  bards.  The  richness  of  their  language,  and 
something  of  the  character  of  the  people  who  use  it,  are 
shown  in  the  fact  that  it  has  eighty  names  for  honey, 
five  hundred  for  the  lion,  and  a  thousand  for  the  sword ! 

THE  SPIRIT-CARAVAN. 

"  On  the  desert  sand  bivouacked  and  silent  lay  our  motley 
throng ; 
My  Bedouin  Arabs  slumbered  the  unbridled  steeds  among ; 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  51 

Far  away  the  moonlight  quivered  o'er  old  Nilus'  mountain 

chain, 
Dromedary-bones  lay  bleaching,  scattered  o'er  the  sandy 

plain. 

"  Wide  awake  I  lay :  —  my  caftan's  ample  folds  were  o'er  me 

spread. 
Covering  breast  and  feet ;  my  saddle  formed  a  pillow  for 

my  head ; 
There  I  thrust  my  purse,  together  with  the  date-tree's  fruit ; 

and  near 
I  had  placed  my  naked  sabre,  with   my  musket  and  my 

spear. 

"  All  was  silent,  save  the  rustle  by  the  dying  embers  made. 
Save  the  wheeling  of  the  vulture,  from  its  distant  eyrie 

strayed ; 
Save  when  an  impatient  charger,  firmly  tethered,  pawed  the 

ground. 
Or  a  rider  snatched   his  weapons,  dreaming  in  his   sleep 

profound. 

"Lo!  the  firm  earth  trembles!  yonder,  ghastly  shapes  are 

gliding  by 
Through  the  moonlight;  o'er  the  desert  savage  beasts  in 

terror  fly  ! 
Snorting  rear  the  frightened  chargers ;  —  grasps  his  flag  our 

leader  bold,  — 
*Lo!  the  spirit  caravan,'  he  murmurs,  and  lets  go    his 

hold. 

"  Ay,  they  come !  —  Before  the  camels  see  the  spectral  driv- 
ers glide ; 
Seated  on  their  stately  saddles,  unveiled  women  proudly 
ride; 


5S  INTRODUCTION   TO 

By  their  side  appear  young  maidens,  bearing  pitchers,  like 

Rebecca ; 
Troops  of  phantom  riders  follow,  —  on  they  rush  with  speed 

to  Mecca. 

"  Still  they  come  !  —  the  train  is  endless,  —  who  can  count 

the  number  o'er  ? 
See,  the  scattered  bones  of  camels  rise,  instinct  with  life 

once  more ; 
And  the  whirling  sand,  whose  masses  o'er  the  desert  darkly 

rolled, 
Changes  into  dusky  drivers,  who  the  camel-bridles  hold. 

"  This  the  night  when  all  the  creatures,  swallowed  by  the 

sandy  main, 
Whose  storm-driven  dust  distressed  us,  as  we  crossed  the 

burning  plain. 
And  whose   mouldering  skulls  were  trodden  'neath  our 

horses'  hoofs  to-day, 
Come  to  life,  and  in  procession  haste  at  Mecca's  shrine  to 

pray. 

"  More,  still  more !  —  not  yet  have  passed  us  those  who  close 
the  ghastly  train  ; 

And  the  first  appear  already,  flying  back  with  slackened 
rein; 

From  the  mountains,  lying  yonder,  whirling  with  the  light- 
ning's speed. 

They  have  passed  to  Babelmandib,  ere  I  could  unloose  my 
steed. 

"  Now  make  ready !  —  loose  the  chargers,  —  every  rider  in 
his  seat ! 
Tremble  not  as  the  distracted  herd,  when  they  the  lion 
meetl 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  53 

Let  the  spectres'  flowing  garments  touch  you  as  they  rustle 
by; 

Allah  call !  —  and  on  their  camels  let  the  phantom  riders 
fly! 

"  Wait  until  the  morning  breezes  in  your  turbans  wave  the 

plumes, 
Morning  red  and  morning   breezes  will  consign   them  to 

their  tombs ; 
Back  to  dust  these  nightly  pilgrims  will  return  at  break  of 

day; 
Lo !  it  glimmers,  and  my  charger  greets  it  with  a  joyous 

neigh." 

There  is  something  romantic  and  touching  in  an 
Arab's  proud  and  tender  love  for  his  horse.  A  young 
warrior  is  slaughtered  in  battle  :  when  his  steed  comes 
home,  his  mother  takes  its  hoof  in  her  bosom,  and  kisses 
its  head,  and  presses  her  cheek  against  its  neck.  Says 
Hassan  to  his  mare,  in  Bayard  Taylor's  fine  and  faith- 
ful lines :  — 

"  Come,  my  beauty  !  come,  my  desert  darling ! 
On  my  shoulder  lay  thy  glossy  head ! 
Tear  not,  though  the  barley-sack  be  empty, 
Here 's  the  half  of  Hassan's  scanty  bread. 

"  Bend  thy  forehead  now,  to  take  my  kisses  ! 
Lift  in  love  thy  dark  and  splendid  eye  : 
Thou  art  glad  when  Hassan  mounts  the  saddle,  — 
Thou  art  proud  he  owns  thee :  so  am  I. 

"  We  have  seen  Damascus,  O  my  beauty  ! 
And  the  splendor  of  the  Pashas  there  : 
"V\^at  's  their  pomp  and  riches  ?     Why,  I  would  not 
Take  them  for  a  handful  of  thy  hair  1 " 


54  INTRODUCTION    TO 

Next  to  his  mistress  and  his  steed  the  Arab  loves  the 
palm-tree.  I  have  read  an  Arab  poem  which,  in  a  hun- 
di'ed  and  thirty-six  couplets,  celebrates  the  hundred  and 
thirty-six  uses  to  which  the  leaves  and  fibres  of  the 
various  palms  are  applied. 

Turning  to  Persian  poetry,  we  are  at  once  con- 
fronted by  the  Shah  Nameh,  Firdousi's  immortal  epic. 
When  the  humble  Firdousi  came  from  his  garden  at  Tus 
to  the  Sultan's  residence,  the  three  court  poets  saw 
him  coming,  and  thought  by  a  trick  to  shame  him  away. 
As  he  approached,  they  told  him  that  they  conversed 
with  no  one  unless,  when  they  had  recited  three  verses, 
he  could  supply  a  rhyme  to  the  third  line.  They  had 
agreed  to  end  that  line  with  a  word  having  but  one 
rhyme  in  the  language,  the  name  of  a  legendary  hero. 
The  first,  addressing  a  beautiful  maid,  says :  — 

"  The  light  of  the  moon  to  thy  splendor  is  weak  " ; 
The  second  adds : 

"  The  rose  is  eclipsed  by  the  bloom  of  thy  cheek  " ; 
Then  the  third  continues  i 

"  Thine  eyelashes  dart  through  the  folds  of  the  joshun  " ; 
Firdousi  instantly  subjoins : 

"  Like  the  javelin  of  Giw  in  the  battle  with  Poshun." 
Surprised  and  dehghted,  the  worthy  trio  introduced  the 
stranger  to  Mahmoud,  who  was  so  pleased  with  his  tal- 
ents and  manners  that  he  soon  employed  him  to  versify 
the  ancient  history  and  myths  of  the  nation.  The  re- 
sult was  that  great  poem,  which  is  now  read  in  so  many 
languages,  and  whose  perpetual  fame  is  secure.  The 
Shah  Nameh  is  a  structure  of  fable  and  exaggeration  on 
a  basis  of  historic  fact.     It  abounds  with  giants,  demons, 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  55 

prodigies,  magicians,  and  miraculous  monstrosities,  but 
at  the  same  time  has  many  episodes  of  marvellous  puri- 
ty, elegance,  and  interest,  and  is  crowded  with  rare  gems 
both  of  thought  and  rhetoric.  A  writer  familiar  with 
the  original  Persian  of  this  work  tells  us,  that  "  from  be- 
ginning to  end  it  is  one  unbroken  current  of  exquisite 
melody.  Verse  after  verse  ripples  on  the  ear,  and 
washes  up  its  tribute  of  rhyme;  and  we  stand,  as  it 
were,  on  the  shore,  and  gaze  with  wonder  into  the  world 
that  lies  buried  beneath,  —  a  world  of  feeling,  and 
thought,  and  action,  that  has  passed  away  from  earth's 
memory  for  ever,  whilst  its  palaces  and  heroes  are  dim- 
ly seen  mirrored  below,  as  in  the  enchanted  lake  of 
the  Arabian  story."  One  of  the  most  beautiful  epi- 
sodes in  the  Shah  Nameh  —  the  story  of  Sohrab  — 
has  been  best  put  into  English  by  Matthew  Arnold.  It 
is,  to  say  the  least,  in  all  the  choicest  qualities  of  poetry 
fully  equal  to  any  passage  of  the  same  length  in  Ho- 
mer's Iliad.  Firdousi  closes  the  history  of  Feridun, 
the  most  virtuous  of  his  heroes,  with  this  forcible  appli- 
cation of  a  beautiful  moral :  — 

"  Yet  Feridun  was  not  an  angel, 
Nor  was  he  formed  of  musk  or  ambergris  : 
He  gained  his  fame  by  justice  and  generosity. 
Be  thou  generous  and  just,  and  thou  art  a  Feridun." 

When  Firdousi  had  finished  his  gigantic  task,  and  laid 
the  magnificent  result  —  sixty  thousand  rhymed  coup- 
lets —  at  the  feet  of  the  Sultan,  whose  mind  had  been 
poisoned  against  him  by  his  envious  rivals,  his  royal 
master  insulted  him  by  sending  a  petty  sum  of  copper 
money  as  his  reward.     The  poet's  wounded  spirit  re- 


56  INTRODUCTION    TO 

coiled  in  bitter  anger.  lie  wrote  a  most  stinging  sat- 
ire, and,  having  sent  it  to  the  ungrateful  monarch,  fled 
from  the  empire.  The  following  specimen  of  this  re- 
markable invective  is  very  striking.  I  quote  from  a 
valuable  series  of  articles  on  Persian  Poetry  to  be  found 
in  Eraser's  Magazine,  Vols.  XVIII. -XXI. 

"  In  Mahmoud  hope  not  thou  to  find 
One  virtue  to  redeem  his  mind  1 
His  thoughts  no  generous  transports  fill, 
To  truth,  to  faith,  to  justice,  chill ! 
Son  of  a  slave,  his  diadem 
In  vain  may  glow  with  many  a  gem  : 
Exalted  high  in  power  and  place, 
Out  bursts  the  meanness  of  his  race  ! 

"  Take  of  some  bitter  tree  a  shoot, 
In  Eden's  gardens  plant  the  root ; 
Let  waters  from  th'  eternal  spring 
Amidst  the  boughs  their  incense  fling : 
Though  bathed  and  showered  with  honey-dew, 
Its  native  baseness  springs  to  view : 
After  long  care  and  anxious  skill 
The  fruit  it  bears  is  bitter  still ! 

"  Place  thou  within  the  spicy  nest, 
IVhere  the  bright  phoenix  loves  to  rest, 
A  raven's  egg,  and  mark  thou  well, 
When  the  vile  bird  has  chipped  his  shell, 
Though  fed  with  grains  from  trees  that  grow 
Where  Salsebil's  pure  waters  flow. 
Though  airs  from  Gabriel's  wing  may  rise, 
To  fan  the  cradle  where  he  lies, 
Though  long  their  patient  cares  endure, 
He  proves  at  last  a  bird  impure ! 


ORIENTAL    POETRT.  57 

"  A  viper  nurtured  in  a  bed 
Where  roses  all  their  beauties  spread, 
Though  nourished  with  the  drops  alone 
Of  waves  that  spring  from  Allah's  throne, 
Is  still  a  poisonous  reptile  found. 
And  with  its  venom  taints  the  ground  ! 

"  Hadst  thou,  degenerate  prince  !  but  shown 
One  single  virtue  as  thy  own, 
Then  thou  hadst  gloried  in  my  fame. 
And  built  thyself  a  deathless  name. 
O  Mahmoud  !  though  thou  fear  me  not, 
Heaven's  vengeance  will  not  be  forgot ; 
Shrink,  tyrant !  from  my  words  of  fire, 
And  wither  in  a  poet's  ire  ! " 

As  we  enter  the  realm  of  Persian  lyric  poetry,  we 
approach  the 'most  intoxicating  cordials  and  the  dainti- 
est viands  anywhere  furnished  at  the  world-banquet  of 
literature.  The  eye  is  inebriate  at  sight  of  ruby  vases 
filled  with  honey,  and  crystal  goblets  brimmed  with 
thick-purpled  wine,  and  golden  baskets  full  of  sliced 
pomegranates.  The  flavor  of  nectarines,  tamarinds, 
and  figs  is  on  the  tongue.  If  we  lean  from  the  balcony 
for  relief,  a  breeze  comes  wafted  over  acres  of  roses,  and 
the  air  is  full  of  the  odor  of  cloves  and  precious  gums, 
sandal-wood  and  cedar,  frankincense  forests,  and  cinna- 
mon groves.  A  Persian  poet  of  rich  genius,  who  wrote 
but  little,  being  asked  why  he  did  not  produce  more,  re- 
plied :  "  I  intended,  as  soon  as  I  should  reach  the  rose- 
trees,  to  fill  my  lap,  and  bring  presents  for  my  compan- 
ions ;  but  when  I  arrived  there,  the  fragrance  of  the 
roses  so  intoxicated  me  that  the  skirt  of  my  robe  slipped 
from  my  hands."     The  true  Persian   poet,  as  Mirtsa 


58  INTRODUCTION   TO 

SchafFy  declares,  in  his  songs  burns  sun,  moon,  and  stars 
as  sacrifice  on  the  altar  of  beauty.  Every  kiss  the  maid- 
ens plant  on  his  lips  springs  up  as  a  song  in  his  mouth. 
One  describes  a  battle-field  looking  as  if  the  earth  was 
covered  over  with  crimson  tulips.  The  evening  star  is 
a  moth,  and  the  moon  th?  lamp.  A  devotee  in  a  dream 
heard  the  cherubs  in  heaven  softly  singing  the  poetry  of 
Saadi,  and  saying,  "  This  couplet  of  Saadi  is  worth  the 
hymns  of  angel-worship  for  a  whole  year."  Upon  awak- 
ing he  went  to  Saadi  and  found  him  fervently  reciting 
the  following  lines :  — 

"  To  pious  minds  each  verdant  leaf  displays 
A  volume  teeming  with  th'  Almighty's  praise." 

The  Persian  seems  bom  with  a  lyre  in  his  hand  and 
a  song  on  his  tongue.  It  is  related  of  the  celebrated 
poet,  Abderrahman,  son  of  Hissan,  that  when  an  infant, 
being  stung  by  a  wasp,  he  ran  to  his  father,  crying  in 
spontaneous  verse : 

Father,  I  have  been  stung  by  an  insect  I  know  not,  but  his 

breast    ^ 
With  white  and  yellow  spots  is  covered,  like  the  border  of  my 

vest. 

The  tones  of  the  Persian  harp  are  extremely  tender 
and  pathetic.  They  seem  to  sigh.  Wherever  sad  Mem- 
ory walks  in  the  halls  of  the  past,  her  step  wakes  the 
echoes  of  long-lost  joys.  They  frequently  accord  with 
a  strain  like  this  :  — 

*'I  saw  some  handfuls  of  the  rose  in  bloom, 
With  bands  of  grass  suspended  from  a  dome. 
I  said,  '  What  means  this  worthless  grass,  that  it 
Should  in  the  rose's  fairy  circle  sit  ? ' 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  59 

Then  wept  the  grass,  and  said :  '  Be  still !  and  know 
The  kind  their  old  associates  ne'er  forego. 
Mine  is  no  beauty,  hue,  or  fragrance,  true ! 
But  in  the  garden  of  my  Lord  I  grew  I ' " 

Among  the  epic  poets  of  Persia,  Firdousi  is  chief ; 
among  the  romantic  poets,  Nisami ;  among  the  moral- 
didactic,  Saadi ;  among  the  purely  lyric,  Hafiz ;  among 
the  religious,  Ferideddin  Attar.  In  their  respective 
provinces  these  indisputably  and  unapproached  bear 
the  palm. 

There  are  three  objects  as  famous  in  Persian  poetry 
as  the  Holy  Grail  in  the  legends  of  King  Arthur  and 
the  Knights  of  the  Round  Table.  One  is  Jemschid's  cup. 
This  was  a  magic  goblet  with  seven  circling  lines  divid- 
ing it  into  seven  compartments,  corresponding  to  the 
seven  worlds.  Filling  it  with  wine,  Jemschid  had  only 
to  look  in  it  and  behold  all  the  events  of  the  creation, 
past,  present,  and  future. 

"  It  is  that  goblet  round  whose  wondrous  rim 
The  enrapturing  secrets  of  creation  swim." 

Firdousi  has  described  Jemschid  upon  a  certain  oc- 
casion consulting  this  cup. 

"  The  vessel  in  his  hand  revolving  shook, 
And  earth's  whole  surface  glimmered  on  his  look : 
Nor  less  the  secrets  of  the  starry  sphere, 
The  what,  and  when,  and  how,  depicted  clear : 
From  orbs  celestial  to  the  blade  of  grass, 
All  nature  floated  in  the  magic  glass." 

Another  is  Solomon's  signet-ring.  Such  were  the  in- 
credible virtues  of  this  little  talisman,  that  the  touch  of 
it  exorcised  all  evil  spirits,  commanded  the  instant  pres- 
ence and  services  of  the  Genii,  laid  every  secret  bare, 


60  INTRODUCTION   TO 

and  gave  its  possessor  almost  unlimited  powers  of 
knowledge,  dominion,  and  performance.  The  third  is 
Iskander's  mirror.  By  looking  on  this  the  future  was 
revealed,  unknown  climes  brought  to  view,  and  what- 
ever its  o^vner  wished  made  visible.  By  means  of  this 
glass,  Alexander — for  the  Oriental  Iskander  is  no 
other  —  accomplished  the  expedition  to  Paradise,  so 
celebrated  in  the  mythic  annals  of  the  East.  There  is 
scarcely  any  end  to  the  allusions  and  anecdotes  referring 
to  these  three  wondrous  objects. 

There  are  likewise  three  pairs  of  lovers  whose  court- 
ship and  fortunes  are  staple  subjects  with  the  Persian 
bards.  Hatifi  is  thought  to  have  best  sung  the  loves  of 
Leila  and  Majnun.  Nisami  is  identified  with  the  finest 
portrayal  of  the  affection  and  fate  of  Khosru  and  Shi- 
reen.  And  Jami  has,  in  his  telling  of  the  story  of  Jo- 
seph and  Zuleika,  distanced  all  rivals.  But  on  each  of 
the  three  pairs  scores  of  distinguished  lyrists  have  tried 
their  powers.  In  Nisami's  Khosru  and  Shire  en  occurs 
the  remarkable  episode  of  Ferhad.  Ferhad  was  a 
sculptor  of  transcendent  genius,  who,  from  his  passionate 
love  for  Shireen,  was  a  troublesome  rival  to  Khosru. 
The  king,  to  get  rid  of  his  presence  by  engaging  him  in 
an  impossible  task,  promised  that  if  he  would,  unaided, 
cut  through  the  impassable  mountain  of  Beysitoun  a 
channel  for  a  river,  and  hew  all  the  masses  of  rock  into 
statues,  the  lovely  maid  he  adored  should  be  the  reward 
of  his  labors.  The  slave  of  love  accepted  the  condition. 
The  enamored  statuary  commenced  his  work,  crying, 
every  time  he  struck  the  rock,  "  Alas,  Shireen ! " 

"  On  lofty  Beysitoun  the  lingering  sun 
Looks  down  on  ceaseless  labors,  long  begun ; 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  61 

The  mountain  trembles  to  the  echoing  sound 

Of  falling  rocks  that  from  her  sides  rebound. 

Each  day,  all  respite,  all  repose,  denied, 

Without  a  pause  the  thundering  strokes  are  plied ; 

The  mist  of  night  around  the  summits  coils, 

But  still  Ferhad,  the  lover-artist,  toils. 

And  still,  the  flashes  of  his  axe  between. 

He  sighs  to  every  wind,  '  Alas,  Shireen  !  * 

A  hundred  arms  are  weak  one  block  to  move 

Of  thousands  moulded  by  the  hand  of  love 

Into  fantastic  shapes  and  forms  of  grace, 

That  crowd  each  nook  of  that  majestic  place. 

The  piles  give  way,  the  rocky  peaks  divide. 

The  stream  comes  gushing  on,  a  foaming  tide,  — 

A  mighty  work  for  ages  to  remain. 

The  token  of  his  passion  and  his  pain. 

As  flows  the  milky  flood  from  Allah's  throne, 

Rushes  the  torrent  from  the  yielding  stone. 

And,  sculptured  there,  amazed,  stern  Khosru  stands, 

And  frowning  sees  obeyed  his  harsh  commands  : 

While  she,  the  fair  beloved,  with  being  rife, 

Awakes  from  glowing  marble  into  life. 

O  hapless  youth  !  O  toil  repaid  by  woe  ! 

A  king  thy  rival,  and  the  world  thy  foe. 

Will  she  wealth,  splendor,  pomp,  for  thee  resign, 

And  only  genius,  truth,  and  passion  thine  ? 

Around  the  pair,  lo  !  chiselled  courtiers  wait. 

And  slaves  and  pages  grouped  in  solemn  state ; 

From  columns  imaged  wreaths  their  garlands  throw, 

And  fretted  roofs  with  stars  appear  to  glow : 

Fresh  leaves  and  blossoms  seem  around  to  spring. 

And  feathered  throngs  their  loves  seem  murmuring. 

The  hands  of  Peris  might  have  wrought  those  stems 

Where  dew-drops  hang  their  fragile  diadems. 

And  strings  of  pearl  and  sharp-cut  diamonds  shine. 

New  from  the  wave,  or  recent  from  the  mine. 


62  INTRODUCTION   TO 

'  Alas,  Shireen  ! '  at  every  stroke  lie  cries,  — 
At  every  stroke  fresh  miracles  arise. 
'  For  thee  my  life  one  ceaseless  toil  has  been  ; 
Inspire  my  soul  anew,  —  alas,  Shireen ! ' " 

Ferhad  achieved  his  task,  and  with  such  exquisite 
skill  and  taste,  that  the  most  expert  statuaries  and 
polishers  from  every  part  of  the  world,  coming  to  be- 
hold his  works,  bit  the  finger  of  astonishment  and  were 
confounded  at  the  genius  of  that  distracted  lover.  .  Fer- 
had was  pausing,  weary,  at  the  completion  of  his  toil, 
with  his  chisel  in  his  hand,  when  his  treacherous  rival 
sent  him  the  false  message  that  Shireen  was  dead. 

"  He  heard  the  fatal  news,  —  no  word,  no  groan ; 
He  spoke  not,  moved  not,  stood  transfixed  to  stone. 
Then,  with  a  frenzied  start,  he  raised  on  high 
His  arms,  and  wildly  tossed  them  towards  the  sky ; 


uns: 


6' 


Far  in  the  wide  expanse  his  axe  he  fl 
And  from  the  precipice  at  once  he  sprung. 
The  rocks,  the  sculptured  caves,  the  valleys  green, 
Sent  back  his  dying  cry,  — '  Alas,  Shireen  ! '  " 

Furthermore,  there  are  five  standard  allegories  of 
hapless  love  which  the  poets  of  Persia  have  wrought 
out  in  innumerable  forms  of  passionate  imagery  and 
beauteous  versification.  The  constant  Nightingale  loves 
the  Rose,  and  when  she  perishes,  his  laments  pain  the 
evening  air,  and  fill  grove  and  garden  with  heart-break- 
ing melodies. 

"  The  bulbul  wanders  to  and  fro  ; 
His  wing  is  weak,  his  note  is  low ; 
In  vain  he  wakes  his  song, 
Since  she  he  wooed  so  long 
No  more  sheds  perfume  on  the  air  around : 
Her  hundred  leaves  lie  scattered  or  the  ground ; 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  63 

Or  if  one  solitary  bud  remain, 
The  bloom  is  past,  and  only  left  the  stain. 
Where  once  amidst  the  blossoms  was  his  nest, 
Thorns  raise  their  daggers  at  his  bleeding  breast." 

The  Lily  loves  the  Sun,  and  opens  the  dazzling 
white  of  her  bosom  to  his  greeting  smile  as  he  rises ; 
and  when  he  sets,  covers  her  face  and  droops  her  head, 
forlorn,  all  night.  The  Lotus  loves  the  Moon;  and 
soon  as  his  silver  light  gilds  the  waters,  she  lifts  her 
snowy  neck  above  the  tide,  and  sheds  the  perfume  of 
her  amorous  breath  over  the  waves,  till  shaming  day 
ends  her  dalliance.  The  Ball  loves  the  Bat,  and  still 
solicitingly  returns,  flying  to  meet  him,  however  oft  and 
cruelly  repulsed  and  spurned.  The  Moth  and  the  Ta- 
per are  two  fond  lovers  separated  by  the  fierce  flame. 
He  draws  her  with  resistless  invitation :  she  flies  with 
reckless  resolve ;  the  merciless  flame  devours  her,  and 
melts  him  away. 

From  this  rapid  look  at  the  wealth  of  the  Iranian 
bards,  let  us  now  turn,  for  a  moment,  to  the  Siifis.  The 
circulating  life-sap  of  Siifism  is  piety,  its  efflorescence  is 
poetry,  which  it  yields  in  spontaneous  abundance  of 
brilliant  bloom.  The  Siifis  are  a  sect,  of  comparatively 
modern  origin,  which  sprouted  from  the  trunk  of  Mo- 
hammedanism, Vhere  the  mysticism  of  India  was  graft- 
ed into  it,  and  was  nourished  in  the  passionate  sluggish- 
ness of  Eastern  reverie  by  the  soothing  dreams  and 
fanatic  fires  of  that  wondrous  race  and  clime.  They 
flourished  chiefly  in  Persia,  but  rightfully  claimed  as 
virtual  members  of  their  sect  the  most  distinguished 
religionists,  philosophers,  and  poets  of  the  whole  Orient 
for  thousands  of  years ;  because  all  these  agreed  with 


64  INTBODUCTION   TO 

them  in  the  fundamental  principles  of  their  system  of 
thought,  rules  of  life,  and  aims  of  aspiration.  A  de- 
tailed account  of  the  Siifis  may  be  found  in  Sir  John 
Malcolm's  History  of  Persia,  and  a  good  sketch  of  their 
dogmas  is  presented  in  Tholuck's  Siifism  ;  but  the  best 
exposition  of  their  experience  and  literary  expression 
is  afforded  by  Tholuck's  Anthology  from  the  Oriental 
Mystics.  The  Siifis  are  a  sect  of  meditative  devotees, 
whose  absorption  in  spiritual  contemplations  and  hal- 
lowed raptures  is  unparalleled,  whose  piety  penetrates  to 
p,  depth  where  the  mind  gropingly  staggers  among  the 
bottomless  roots  of  being,  in  mazes  of  wonder  and  de- 
light, and  reaches  to  a  height  where  the  soul  loses  itself 
^mong  the  roofless  immensities  of  glory  in  a  bedazzled 
and  boundless  ecstasy.     As  a  specimen,  read 

THE  SUCCESSFUL  SEARCH. 

!'  I  was  ere  a  name  had  been  named  upon  earth,  — 

Ere  one  trace  yet  existed  of  aught  that  has  birth,  — 

When  the  locks  of  the  Loved  One  streamed  forth  for  a  sign, 

A.nd  being  was  none  save  the  Presence  Divine  ! 

Ere  the  veil  of  the  flesh  for  Messiah  was  wrought, 

To  the  Godhead  I  bowed  in  prostration  of  thought ! 

X  measured  intently,  I  pondered  with  heed, 

(But  ah  fruitless  my  labor  !)  the  Cross  and  its  Creed. 

To  the  Pagod  I  rushed,  and  the  Magian's  shrine, 

But  my  eye  caught  no  glimpse  of  a  glory  divine  ! 

The  reins  of  research  to  the  Caaba  I  bent, 

Whither  hopefully  thronging  the  old  and  young  went  -5 

Candahar  and  Herat  searched  I  wistfully  through, 

Nor  above  nor  beneath  came  the  Loved  One  to  view  ! 

X  toiled  to  the  summit,  wild,  pathless,  and  lone. 

Of  the  globe-girding  K^f,  but  the  Phcenix  had  flown. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  65 

The  seventh  earth  I  traversed,  the  seventh  heaven  explored, 

But  in  neither  discerned  I  the  Court  of  the  Lord  ! 

I  questioned  the  Pen  and  the  Tablet  of  Fate, 

But  they  whispered  not  where  He  pavilions  his  state. 

My  vision  I  strained,  but  my  God-scanning  eye 

No  trace  that  to  Godhead  belongs  could  descry. 

But  when  I  my  glance  turned  within  my  own  breast, 

Lo  !  the  vainly  sought  Loved  One,  the  Godhead  confessed  I 

In  the  whirl  of  its  transport  my  spirit  was  tossed 

Till  each  atom  of  separate  being  I  lost : 

And  the  bright  sun  of  Tauriz  a  madder  than  me, 

Or  a  wilder,  hath  never  yet  seen,  nor  shall  see." 

Their  aim  is  a  union  with  God  so  intimate  that  it  be- 
comes identity,  wherein  thought  is  an  involuntary  intui- 
tive grasp  and  fruition  of  universal  truth ;  and  wherein 
feeling  is  a  dissolving  and  infinite  delirium  filled  with  the 
perfect  calmness  of  unfathomable  bliss.  For  the  grad- 
ual training  of  the  soul  unto  the  winning  of  this  incom- 
parable and  last  attainment,  they  have  devised  a  system 
of  means  whose  simpUcity  and  complication,  adapted 
completeness,  —  regular  stages  of  initiation  and  grada- 
tions of  experience,  spiritual  frictions  and  magnetisms, 
stimulants  for  some  faculties,  soporifics  for  others,  di- 
versified disciplines  and  educations  for  all,  —  are  aston- 
ishingly fitted  to  lead  the  disciple  regularly  on  to  the 
marvellous  result  they  desire.  And  it  could  scarcely 
fail  of  effect,  if  faithfully  tried,  even  in  the  colder  airs 
and  on  the  more  phlegmatic  natures  of  the  "West. 
How  finely  drawn  the  subtile  experience  and  beautiful 
thought  in  the  following  anecdote  of  Rabia,  the  cele- 
brated Mohammedan  saint !  We  give  it  as  told  after 
Tholuck  by  James  Freeman  Clarke. 


QQ  INTRODUCTION    TO 

THE  THREE  STAGES   OF  PIETY. 

Rabia,  sick  upon  her  bed, 
By  two  saints  was  visited, 
Holy  Malik,  Hassan  wise,  •— 
Men  of  mark  in  Moslem  eyes. 
Hassan  says,  "  AVliose  prayer  is  pure 
Will  God's  chastisements  endure." 
Malik  from  a  deeper  sense 
Uttered  his  experience : 
"  He  who  loves  his  Master's  choice 
Will  in  chastisement  rejoice." 
Kabia  saw  some  selfish  will 
In  their  maxims  lingering  still, 
And  replied,  "  O  men  of  grace  I 
He  who  sees  his  Master's  face 
Will  not  in  his  prayer  recall 
That  he  is  chastised  at  all." 

The  passage  through  the  classified  degrees  of  attain- 
ment in  the  mystic  life  they  call  "the  travelling  by 
steps  up  to  heaven."  , 

The  Siifi  poets  are  innumerable,  but  their  universally 
acknowledged  head  and  master  is  the  celebrated  Mew- 
lana  Dschelaleddin  Rumi,  the  greatest  mystic  poet  of 
the  whole  Orient,  the  oracle  of  the  devotees,  the  night- 
ingale of  the  contemplative  life,  the  lawgiver  in  piety, 
the  founder  of  the  principal  order  of  Dervishes,  and  au- 
thor of  the  Mesnavi.  The  Mesnavi  is  a  vast  and  famous 
double-rhymed  ascetic  poem,^n  inexhaustible  coffer  of 
Siifi  lore  and  gems.  From  the  banks  of  the  Ganges  to 
the  Bosporus  it  is  the  hand-book  of  all  Sufis,  the  law- 
book and  ritual  of  all  the  mystics.  From  this  work, 
says  Yon    Hammer,  this  volcanic  eruption  of  inspira- 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  G7 

tion,  breaks  forth  the  inmost  peculiarity  of  Oriental 
mysticism,  a  solitary  self-direction  towards  the  loftiest 
goal  of  perfection  over  the  contemplative  way  of  .Divine 
Love.  On  the  wings  of  the  highest  religious  inspira- 
tion, which  rise  far  beyond  all  outer  forms  of  positive 
religion,  adoring  the  Eternal  Essence,  in  its  completest 
abstraction  from  everything  earthly,  as  the  purest  foun- 
tain of  eternal  light,  soars  Dschelaleddin.  above  suns 
and  moons,  above  time  and  space,  above  creation  and 
fate,  beyond  the  primeval  decrees  of  destiny,  beyond 
the  sentence  of  the  last  judgment,  forth  into  infinitude, 
where  he  melts  into  unity  with  the  Endless  Being  as 
endless  worshipper,  and  into  the  Boundless  Love  as 
boundless  lover,  ever  forgetful  of  himself,  having  the 
Absolute  in  view ;  and,  instead  of  closing  his  poems,  like 
other  great  poets,  with  his  own  name,  he  always  makes 
the  name  of  his  mystic  master  the  keystone  to  the  dia- 
mond arch  of  his  fire-ghazels. 

The  Sufi  turns  inward  for  his  aims  and  joys,  with  a 
scornful  superiority  to  all  visible  rituals.  He  says  that 
one  hour  of  secret  meditation  and  silent  love  is  of  more 
avail  than  seventy  thousand  years  of  outward  worship. 
When,  with  great  toils  and  sufferings,  Rabia  had  effect- 
ed the  pilgrimage  to  Mecca,  and  saw  the  people  praying 
around  the  Caaba,  she  beat  her  breast  and  cried  aloud :  — 

"  O  heart !  weak  follo.wer  of  the  weak, 
That  thou  shouldst  traverse  land  and  sea, 
In  this  far  place  that  God  to  seek 
Who  long  ago  had  come  to  thee  ! " 

When  a  knowledge  of  the  Supreme  has  been  attained, 
there  is  no  need  of  ceremonies ;  when  a  soft,  refreshing 


68  INTRODUCTION    TO 

breeze  blows  from  the  south,  there  is  no  need  of  a  fan. 
As  an  illustration  of  this  phase  may  be  perused  the 
following  fine  poem  translated  by  Professor  Falconer. 
It  may  be  fitly  entitled 

THE  RELIGION  OF  THE  HEART. 

"Beats  there  a  heart  within  that  breast  of  thine  ? 
Then  compass  reverently  its  sacred  shrine : 
For  the  true  spiritual  Caaba  is  the  heart, 
And  no  proud  pile  of  perishable  art. 
When  God  ordained  the  pilgrim  rite,  that  sign 
Was  meant  to  lead  thy  thought  to  things  divine. 
A  thousand  times  he  treads  that  round  in  vain 
Who  e'en  one  human  heart  would  idly  pain. 
Leave  wealth  behind ;  bring  God  thy  heart,  —  best  light 
To  guide  thy  wavering  steps  through  life's  dark  night. 
God  spurns  the  riches  of  a  thousand  coffers. 
And  says,  '  My  chosen  is  he  his  heart  who  offers. 
Nor  gold  nor  silver  seek  I,  but  above 
All  gifts  the  heart,  and  buy  it  with  my  love  ; 
Yea,  one  sad,  contrite  heart,  which  men  despise, 
More  than  my  throne  and  fixed  decree  I  prize.* 
Then  think  not  lowly  of  thy  heart,  though  lowly, 
For  holy  is  it,  and  there  dwells  the  Holy. 
God's  presence-chamber  is  the  human  breast ; 
Ah  happy  he  whose  heart  holds  such  a  guest ! " 

Every  consistent  Sufi  is  an  optimist,  one  who  denies 
the  reality  of  evil.  In  his  poems  he  mingles  the  fight- 
ing limits  of  light  and  darkness,  dissolves  the  rocky 
boundaries  of  right  and  wrong,  and  buries  all  clamor- 
ous distinctions  beneath  the  level  sea  of  pantheistic  uni- 
ty. All  drops,  however  driven  forth,  scalded  in  deserts 
or  frozen  on  mountains,  belong  to  the  ocean,  and,  by 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  69 

omnipotent  attractions,  will  finally  find  their  way  home, 
to  repose  and  flow  with  the  tidal  uniformity  of  the  all- 
embracing  deep.  Vice  and  virtue,  purity  and  corrup- 
tion, birth  and  decay,  cruelty  and  tenderness,  —  all 
antagonistic  elements  and  processes  are  equally  the 
manifestations  and  workings  of  God.  From  him  all 
spirits  proceeded,  and  to  him  they  are  ever  returning ; 
or  in  the  temple,  or  on  the  gibbet,  groaning  in  sinks  of 
degraded  sensuality  and  want,  or  exulting  in  palaces  of 
refinement  and  splendor,  they  are  equally  climbing  by 
irresistible  affinities  and  propulsions  towards  their  na- 
tive seat  in  Deity. 

"  Yet  spake  yon  purple  mountain, 
Yet  said  yon  ancient  wood, 
That  night  or  day,  that  love  or  crime, 
Leads  all  souls  to  the  good. " 

This  optimistic  denial  of  the  reality  of  evil  is  fre- 
quently brought  out  by  the  Siifi,  with  a  sudden  empha- 
sis, an  unflinching  thoroughness,  in  forms  and  guises  of 
mystic  reason,  wondrous  beauty,  and  bewildering  sub- 
tlety, which  must  astound  a  Christian  moralist.  The 
Sufi's  brain  is  a  magazine  of  transcendent  mysteries  and 
prodigious  conceits,  his  faith  an  ocean  of  dusky  bliss, 
his  illuminated  tenderness  a  beacon  of  the  Infinite 
Light. 

An  important  trait  of  the  Siifi  belief  is  contained  in 
the  idea,  zealously  held  by  them  all,  and  suffusing  most 
of  their  poetry,  that  death  is  ecstasy. 

"  A  lover  on  his  death-bed  lay,  and  o'er  his  face  the  while. 
Though  anguish  racked  his  wasted  frame,  there  swept  a 
fitful  smile : 


70  INTKODUCTION    TO 

A  flush  his  sunken  cheek  o'erspread,  and  to  his  faded 
eye 

Came  light  that  less  spoke  earthly  bliss  than  heaven- 
breathed  ecstasy. 

And  one  that  weeping  o'er  him  bent,  and  watched  the  ebb- 
ing breath, 

Marvelled  what  thought  gave  mastery  o'er  that  dread  hour 
of  death. 

♦  Ah,  when  the  Fair,  adored  through  life,  Hfts  up  at  length,* 

he  cried, 

♦  The  veil  that  sought  from  mortal  eye  immortal  charms  to 

hide, 
'T  is  thus  true  lovers,  fevered  long  with  that  sweet  mystic 

fire. 
Exulting  meet  the  Loved  One's  gaze,  and  in  that  glance 

expire ! ' " 

Death  plunges  the  heated,  wearj,  thirsting  soul  into 
a  flood  of  delicious  relief  and  repose,  the  unalloyed  and 
ceaseless  fruition  of  a  divine  delight.  The  past  was  one 
sweet  ocean  of  Divinity,  the  future  is  another,  the  pres- 
ent interposes,  a  blistering  and  dreary  strand,  between. 
To  their  hushed  ear 

"  Some  Seraph  whispers  from  the  verge  of  space : 
'  Make  not  these  hollow  shores  thy  resting-place ; 
Born  to  a  portion  in  thy  Maker's  bliss, 
Why  linger  idly  in  a  waste  like  this  ?  ' " 

From  their  heavenly  yearning  breaks  the  exclama- 
tion, "  O  the  bliss  of  that  day  when  I  shall  depart  from 
this  desolate  mansion,  and  my  soul  shall  find  rest,  and  I 
shall  follow  the  traces  of  my  Beloved ! "  From  their 
exhilarating  anticipation  of  pleasure  and  glory  yet  un- 
tasted  and  unglimpsed  behind  the  veil,  rises  the  rejoice- 
ful  cry,  — 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  71 

"  Blest  time  that  frees  me  from  the  bonds  of  clay, 
To  track  the  Lost  One  through  his  airy  course ; 
Like  motes  exulting  in  their  parent  ray, 
My  kindling  spirit  rushes  to  its  Source  ! " 

There  are  thoughts  and  sentiments  in  these  poems 
which  ought,  however  suggested,  and  wherever  recog- 
nized, to  smite  us  with  subduing  wonder,  and  to  fill  us 
with  sympathetic  longing ;  which  ought  magnetically  to 
strike  with  opening/c^e  and  desire  that  side  of  our  souls 
which  looks  upon  infinity  and  eternity,  and  where- 
through, in  favored  hours,  we  thrill  to  the  visiting  in- 
fluences of  boundless  Mystery  and  nameless  Love,  with 
a  rapture  of  calmness,  a  vision  of  heaven,  a  perfect  com- 
munion of  the  Father,  confessing  with  electric  shudders 
of  awe  and  joy  the  motions  of  the  Spirit,  as  God's  hand 
wanders  solemnly  among  the  chords  of  the  heart. 

In  conclusion,  I  will  specify  the  principal  traits  which 
belong  in  a  distinctive  degree  to  Oriental  poetry.  The 
first  one  that  attracts  notice  is  an  airy,  winged,  exult- 
ant liberty  of  spirit,  an  unimpeded  largeness  and  ease 
of  movement,  an  intense  enthusiasm.  This  gives  birth 
to  extravagance.  Compare  in  this  respect  the  Arabian 
Nights'  Entertainments  with  the  Waverley  Novels.  Its 
lower  form  is  a  reveUing  or  deliberate  fancy,  abounding 
in  lawless  conceits,  sometimes  puerile,  sometimes  amaz- 
ing. "  The  bird  of  understanding  hath  fled  from  the 
nest  of  my  brain."  "  The  sun  in  the  zenith  is  a  golden 
falcon  hovering  over  his  azure  nest."  The  higher  form 
of  this  trait  is  the  spontaneous  transport  of  an  inspired 
and  free  imagination,  producing  the  most  stupendous 
conceptions,  infusing  a  divine  soul  through  all  dead  sub- 
stance, melting  everything  into  its  own  moulds,  fiUing  a 


72  INTRODUCTION    TO 

new  universe  with  new  marvels  of  beauty  and  delight 
Almost  every  page  of  true  Eastern  poetry  illustrates 
this.  "  The  world  is  a  bud  from  the  bower  of  God's 
beauty,  the  sun  a  spark  from  the  light  of  his  wisdom, 
and  the  sky  a  bubble  on  the  ocean  of  his  power."  The 
lover  tells  his  mistress,  that  had  he  been  dead  a  thou- 
sand years,  if  she  should  walk  over  his  grave  his  ashes 
would  thrill  as  she  passed,  and  his  heart  instantly  blos- 
som through  the  sod  into  roses  beneath  her  tread.  Mah- 
moud  says,  "  In  the  eye  of  a  gnat  sleeps  an  elephant ; 
in  a  kernel  of  corn  already  lie  many  thousands  of  har- 
vests; in  yon  dew-drop  as  an  exile  the  Euphrates  is 
banished ;  in  that  musiard-seed,  thy  heart,  thrones  the 
Lord  who  inhabiteth  immensity."  This  quickening 
faculty  often  gives  a  tremendous  force  to  expression, 
as  when  Saadi  addresses  a  mean  villain  in  these 
terms :  — 

"  All  would  that  wall  with  loathing  fly 
Which  bore  impressed  thy  effigy ; 
And  if  thy  lot  in  Eden  fell, 
All  others  would  make  choice  of  Hell ! " 

A  very  striking  peculiarity  of  the  Oriental  Muse  in 
general  is  a  singular  copiousness  of  comparison.  Noth- 
ing is  too  remote  or  near,  too  common  or  solitary,  too 
sublime  or  trivial,,  to  furnish  a  similitude  with  something 
else.  A  band  of  Mamlouks  with  drawn  swords  sur- 
round the  house  as  the  black  surrounds  the  pupil  of  the 
eye.  True  these  parallels  are  sometimes  very  trite  and 
unmeaning,  but  they  are  often  wonderfully  subtile,  felici- 
tous, and  beautiful.  The  sun  at  dawn,  rushing  over 
the  mountains,  is  a  lion  chasing  the  black  gazelle,  night. 


ORIENTAL   POETRY.  73 

A  hideous  object  is  ugly  as  a  peacock's  foot.  A  star- 
less night  is  black  as  the  book  of  sins  in  the  judgment- 
day.  The  lapwing  waves  its  pinions  towards  the  earth 
even  as  the  Magi  bow  before  the  sacred  fire.  In  the 
heart  of  a  bereaved  unfortunate  the  vestiges  of  departed 
happiness  are  left  as  the  ashes  are  left  where  a  departed 
caravan  once  encamped.  Almost  every  thought  is 
clothed  in  a  metaphor.     Is  greatness  calm? 

"  A  stone  makes  not  great  rivers  turbid  grow : 
When  saints  are  vexed,  their  shallowness  they  show  I " 

Has  rarity  a  charm  ? 

"  Could  every  hailstone  to  a  pearl  be  turned, 
Pearls  in  the  mart  like  oyster-shells  were  spurned ! " 

When  an  avaricious  man  is  to  be  described,  we  read : 

"  If  the  sun  on  his  table-cloth  instead  of  dry  bread  lay, 
In  all  the  world  none  would  behold  again  the  light  of  day ! " 

And  when  it  is  to  be  said  that  uncleanness  or  disease  is 
remedilessly  repulsive,  we  have  this : 

"  Ne'er  will  the  orange,  from  the  Sultan's  hand 
Once  on  the  dunghill  fallen,  more  there  rest ; 
Though  thirsty,  none  will  water  e'er  demand, 
When  ulcerated  lips  the  jar  have  pressed ! " 

Upon  the  letter  of  his  life  every  man  finds  the  seal  of 
God's  mercy.  Water  is  one  in  look  and  substance,  but 
the  glasses  from  which  men  drink  it  are  many  in  shape 
and  hue.  All  religions  are  diversities  of  the  one  true 
faith,  as  all  colors  are  modifications  of  the  one  white 
light. 

The  apologue,  fable,  or  parable,  —  the  conveyance  of 
instruction  or  admonition  in  the  form  of  a  brief,  striking 


74-  INTRODUCTION    TO 

story,  —  is  characteristic  of  Eastern  poetry  as  well  as 
prose.  This  is  well  exemplified  in  the  New  Testament. 
It  is  also  supposed  that  most  of  the  fables  of  ^sop  were 
imported  from  the  earlier  Indian  literature,  —  though 
this  has  been  denied  by  some,  for  instance,  by  Weber 
in  his  reply  to  Wagener's  prize  essay  on  the  "  Connec- 
tion between  the  Indian  Fables  and  the  Greek."  But 
it  is  unquestionable  that  nearly  all  the  poetic  produc- 
tions of  the  East  are  crowded  with  brief,  sweet,  touch- 
ing, ingenious,  hortatory  apologues.  And  thousands 
of  the  happiest  specimens  of  this  kind  of  composition, 
known  now  among  the  modern  nations  of  the  Occident, 
were  drawn  from  the  vast  stores  of  the  Orient.  In  these 
stories  the  emphatic  aphoristic  tendency  of  the  Eastern 
literary  mind  is  almost  everywhere  displayed.  "  A  gay 
experience  of  good  fortune  makes  man  shallow  and 
frivolous ;  deep  grief  makes  him  wise." 

"  Should  you  a  cistern  with  rose-water  fill, 
A  dog  dropped  in  it  would  d^le  it  still." 

"It  is  easier  to  dig  a  rooted  mountain  up  with  a 
needle,  than  to  pluck  pride  from  the  heart."  As  an  ex- 
emplification of  this  head  I  must  here  cite  Mr.  Clarke's 
admirable  versification  of  the  story,  rendered  from  the 
Persian  by  Tholuck,  called 

THE  CALIPH  AND   SATAN. 

In  heavy  sleep  the  Caliph  lay, 

When  some  one  called,  "  Arise  and  pray  1 " 

The  angry  Caliph  cried,  "  Who  dare 
Kebuke  his  king  for  slighted  prayer  ?  " 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  75 

Then,  from  tlie  corner  of  tlae  room, 

A  voice  cut  sharply  through  the  gloom :  — 

"  My  name  is  Satan.    Rise  !  obey 
Mohammed's  law :  Awake,  and  pray." 

"  Thy  words  are  good,"  the  Caliph  said, 
*'  But  their  intent  I  somewhat  dread  ; 

For  matters  cannot  well  be  worse, 

Than  when  the  thief  says, '  Guard  your  purse.' 

I  cannot  trust  your  counsel,  friend. 
It  surely  hides  some  wicked  end." 

Said  Satan :  "  Near  the  throne  of  God, 
In  ages  past,  we  devils  trod ; 

Angels  of  light,  to  us  't  was  given 

To  guide  each  wandering  foot  to  Heaven. 

Not  wholly  lost  is  that  first  love, 
Nor  those  pure  tastes  we  knew  above. 

Roaming  across  a  continent, 

The  Tartar  moves  his  shifting  tent, 

But  never  quite  forgets  the  day 
When  in  his  father's  arms  he  lay ; 

So  we,  once  bathed  in  love  divine. 
Recall  the  taste  of  that  rich  wine. 

God's  finger  rested  on  my  brow,  — 
That  magic  touch,  I  feel  it  now  ! 

I  fell,  't  is  true,  —  O  ask  not  why  ! 
For  still  to  God  I  turn  my  eye ; 


76  INTRODUCTION   TO 

It  was  a  chance  by  which  I  fell ; 
Another  takes  me  back  from  Hell. 

*T  was  but  my  envy  of  mankind, 
The  envy  of  a  loving  mind. 

Jealous  of  men,  I  could  not  bear 
God's  love  with  this  new  race  to  share. 

But  yet  God's  tables  open  stand, 
His  guests  flock  in  from  every  land. 

Some  kind  act  toward  the  race  of  men 
May  toss  us  into  Heaven  again. 

A  game  of  chess  is  all  we  see,  — 
And  God  the  player,  pieces  we. 

White,  black,  —  queen,  pawn,  —  't  is  all  the  same, 
For  on  both  sides  he  plays  the  game. 

Moved  to  and  fro,  from  good  to  ill. 
We  rise  and  fall  as  suits  his  will." 

The  Caliph  said  :  "  If  this  be  so 
I  know  not,  but  thy  guile  I  know ; 

For  how  can  I  thy  words  believe. 
When  even  God  thou  didst  deceive. 

A  sea  of  lies  art  thou,  —  our  sin 
Only  a  drop  that  sea  within." 

"  Not  so,"  said  Satan  ;  "  I  serve  God, 
His  angel  now,  and  now  his  rod. 

In  tempting,  I  both  bless  and  curse, 
Make  good  men  better,  bad  men  worse. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  77 

Good  coin  is  mixed  with  bad,  my  brother, 
I  but  distinguish  one  from  th'  other." 

"  Granted,"  the  Caliph  said  ;  "  but  still 
You  never  tempt  to  good,  but  ill. 

Tell,  then,  the  truth,  for  well  I  know 
You  come  as  mj  most  deadly  foe." 

Loud  laughed  the  fiend.    "  You  know  me  well ; 
Therefore  my  purpose  I  will  tell. 

If  you  had  missed  your  prayer,  I  knew 
A  swift  repentance  would  ensue ; 

And  such  repentance  would  have  been 
A  good,  outweighing  far  the  sin. 

I  chose  this  humbleness  divine, 

Born  out  of  fault,  should  not  be  thine  ; 

Preferring  prayers  elate  with  pride, 
To  sin  with  penitence  allied." 

In  these  parables  and  anecdotes  a  cunning  wit,  an 
elevated  ethical  tenderness,  and  a  sober  under-tone  are 
in  general  remarkably  mingled. 

"  Who  doth  the  raven  for  a  guide  invite, 
Must  marvel  not  on  carcasses  to  light." 

Saadi  was  asked  what  he,  an  idle  poet,  was  good  for. 
In  turn  he  inquired  what  was  the  use  of  the  rose ;  and 
on  being  told  that  it  was  good  to  be  smelled,  replied, 
"  And  I  am  good  to  smell  it !"  So  our  Concord  Saadi 
sings,  as  if  responding  from  to-day  and  America,  over 
the  ages  and  the  sea,  to  the  dead  lyrist  of  Persia :  — 


78  INTRODUCTION    TO 

"  Tell  them,  dear,  if  eyes  were  made  for  seeing, 
Beauty  is  its  own  excuse  for  being." 

It  is  said  that,  when  Hafiz  died,  the  jealous  and  bigoted 
Dervishes  refused  him  burial,  on  the  ground  that  he 
had  been  a  reckless  unbeliever,  a  blaspheming  radical. 
The  dispute  rose  high.  At  length  it  was  agreed  to 
take  a  thousand  couplets  miscellaneously  from  his  poems, 
write  them  on  slips  of  paper,  place  them  in  a  vase,  and 
let  an  innocent  child  draw  from  them,  lottery-like,  to 
decide  what  should  be  done.     This  verse  came  out : 

Fear  not  to  come  where  Hafiz'  lifeless  body  lies ; 
Though  deeply  sunk  in  sin,  to  heaven  he  will  rise. 

Forthwith  he  was  honorably  interred.  Sir  William 
Jones  says,  "The  Western  poets  afford  no  lesson  of 
morality,  no  tender  sentiment,  which  cannot  be  found  in 
the  writings  of  the  .Eastern." 

A  curious  feature  in  the  rhetoric  of  the  Oriental 
bards  is  the  employment  of  what  may  be  called  figures 
of  impossibility,  —  or  the  paradox.  Their  pages  fur- 
nish copious  and  surprising  examples  of  this.  A  man 
who  follows  vice  instead  of  virtue,  folly  rather  than 
wisdom,  is  one  who  painfully  turns  up  the  barren  sand 
with  a  golden  plough,  to  sow  weeds !  he  mows  a  forest 
of  lignum-vitag  trees  with  a  crystal  scythe !  he  puts  a 
jewelled  vase  on  a  sandal-wood  fire  to  cook  a  dish  of 
husks  or  pebbles !  he  devastates  a  beautiful  date-garden 
to  plant  nettles  there  instead  of  the  palms  !  To  indulge 
in  crime  and  find  peace  instead  of  pain,  profit  and  not 
punishment,  is  to  milk  an  ox,  eat  a  rhinoceros's  eggs, 
and  see  a  lion  live  in  the  lake  like  a  fish !  "  It  is 
written  in  the  sky,  on  the  pages  of  the  air,  that  good 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  79 

deeds  shall  be  done  to  him  who  does  good  deeds  to 
others.' 

Another  very  remarkable  rhetorical  peculiarity  of  a 
great  deal  of  Oriental  poetry  is  the  most  unrestricted 
use  of  erotic  and  bacchanalian  phraseology  to  describe 
the  religious  life. 

"  There  's  never  a  spot  in  this  wildered  world 
Where  His  glory  shines  so  dim 
But  shapes  are  strung,  and  hearts  are  warm, 
And  lips  are  sweet  from  Him." 

An  uninitiated  reader  would  often  shrink  and  blush  as  if 
the  wildest  revels  of  debauchery  were  laid  bare  before 
him,  when  really  the  writer  is  treating  of  the  rapt  ex- 
periences and  sacred  secrets  of  piety,  the  intoxicating 
draughts  and  mystic  endearments  of  the  Divine  Love. 
The  world  is  a  tavern,  God  the  host  and  bar-tender,  life 
the  goblet  he  extends,  and  ecstasy  the  wine  he  pours. 
This  imagery  is  carried  out  consistently  through  all  its 
details,  varied  with  unrivalled  ingenuity,  and  adorned 
with  infinite  splendors  of  conceit  and  imagination.  "  He 
who  is  sobered  when  the  winds  of  evening  play  on  his 
brow,  hath  only  partaken  of  earth's  buttermilk,  and  not 
of  God's  wine."  "  He  that  is  once  inebriated  with  that 
wine,  remains  drunk  until  the  resurrection-day."  God 
is  the  lost  lover,  to  be  sought  until  found ;  and  the  de- 
lirious fruition  of  all  desire  is  undisturbed  life  in  his 
cloudless  presence  and  in  his  clasping  arms.  God  is 
the  infinite  bodiless  beauty  and  love,  whose  attributes 
darken  and  shimmer  through  the  veils  and  illusions  of 
nature,  and  whose  embrace,  uniting  the  soul  to  himself, 
is  speechless  bliss  and  endless  rest. 

Again,  this  whole  province  of  the  world's  literature  is 


80  INTRODUCTION    TO 

enveloped  and  saturated  with  mysticism,  —  mysticism 
of  a  bewildering  quality  and  comprehensiveness.  This 
mysticism,  which  is  the  soul's  groping  in  a  world  of 
symbols  after  realities  too  vast  and  elusive,  occupies  the 
same  place  in  Eastern  literature  that  is  filled  by  senti- 
mentality in  the  modern  literature  of  the  West.  Boden- 
stedt  affirms  that  that  excessive  sentimentality,  or  mor- 
bid vagueness  of  passion,  which  is  so  prevalent  in  the 
lyric  poetry  of  Germany,  is  wholly  unknown  and  un- 
intelligible to  the  Oriental  poets.  They  always  aim  at 
some  real,  apprehensible  object.  But  to  reach  this 
goal  they  set  heaven  and  earth  in  motion.  No  meta- 
phor lies  too  far,  no  thought  too  high,  for  them.  Where 
therefore  our  authors  are  sentimentalists,  the  authors  of 
the  East  are  mystics.  They  blend  an  all-confounding 
metaphysics  of  unknown  subtilty  and  reach  with  a 
delicate,  luxuriant,  gorgeous  sentiment  and  fancy,  and 
plunge  the  productions  of  both  in  gulfs  of  inscrutable 
mystery,  or  suspend  them  in  the  darkness  of  insuffer- 
able light. 

"  One  lonely  pilgrim,  ere  the  world  began, 
Traversed  eternity  to  visit  man, 
And  on  the  precincts  of  the  holy  shrine 
Prepared  an  ample  cup  of  love  divine. 
The  foaming  draught,  o'erflowing  all  the  spheres. 
Dispersed  them,  whirling,  for  unnumbered  years, 
While  the  rapt  seraph,  from  its  ardent  brim, 
Rushed  reeling  back,  and  owned  't  was  not  for  him." 

The  flood  of  the  infinite  rushes  over,  breaks  down,  swal- 
lows up,  the  fences  and  walls  of  the  finite,  and  in  the 
shoreless  gleam  of  its  wild  waves  every  distinction  vam 
ishies ;  nothing  seems  everything  and  all  things  seem 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  81 

nothing.  God  is  at  once  the  performer  of  the  rite  of  de- 
votion, the  rite  itself,  the  implements  by  which  it  is  per- 
formed, and  the  fruit  which  it  bestows.  For  the  highest 
qualities  of  devotional  reflection  and  feeling  it  would  be 
hard  to  find  anything  surpassing  this  description  of 

THE  CONTENTS  OF  PIETY. 

"  Allah  ! "  was  all  night  long  the  cry  of  one  oppressed  with 
care, 

Till  softened  was  his  heart,  and  sweet  became  his  lips  with 
prayer. 

Then  near  the  subtle  tempter  stole,  and  spake  :  "  Fond  bab- 
bler, cease  ! 

For  not  one  '  Here  am  I '  has  God  e'er  sent  to  give  thee 
peace." 

With  sorrow  sank  the  suppliant's  soul,  and  all  his  senses  fled. 

But  lo!  at  midnight,  the  good  angel,  Chiser,  came,  and  said: 

"  What  ails  thee  now,  my  child,  and  why  art  thou  afraid  to 
pray  ? 

And  why  thy  former  love  dost  thou  repent  ?  declare  and 
say." 

"  Ah  !  "  cries  he,  "  never  once  spake  God  to  me, '  Here  am 
I,  son.' 

Cast  ofl*  methinks  I  am,  and  warned  far  from  his  gracious 
throne." 

To  whom  the  angel  answered :  "  Hear  the  word  from  God 
I  bear. 

'  Go  tell,*  he  said,  *  yon  mourner,  sunk  in  sorrow  and  de- 
spair. 

Each  "  Lord,  appear ! "  thy  lips  pronounce,  contains  my 
"  Here  am  I "  ; 

A  special  messenger  I  send  beneath  thine  every  sigh ; 

Thy  love  is  but  a  girdle  of  the  love  I  bear  to  thee, 

And  sleeping  in  thy  "  Come,  O  Lord ! "  there  lies  "  Here, 
son  ! "  from  me.' " 


82  INTRODUCTION   TO 

Ribliu  and  Nidagha  are  conversing,  when  the  king 
rides  by.  The  following  dramatic  dialogue  ensues.  "  In- 
form me,  Nidagha,  which  of  these  is  the  elephant,  and 
which  the  king."  "  Why,  Ribhu,  you  will  observe  that 
the  elephant  is  underneath,  the  king  is  above  him." 
"  Yes,  but  what  is  meant,  Nidagha,  by  underneath,  and 
by  above  ?  "  Nidagha  knocks  Ribhu  down,  jumps  upon 
him,  and  says,  "  I  am  above,  and  you  are  underneath." 
"  Very  well,"  cries  Ribhu,  "  now  tell  me  which  is  you, 
and  which  is  I ! "  This  mysticism  in  a  thousand  shapes 
and  colors  pervades  the  poetry  of  the  East. 

Oriental  poetry  is  further  characterized  —  by  nothing 
more  so  —  by  all  that  is  involved  in,  accompanies,  or 
flows  from  an  ardent  pantheism.  God  is  all,  and  all  is 
God.  He  is  nature.  His  perfect  face  is  printed  and 
painted  in  every  atom. 

"  The  realms  of  being  to  no  other  bow : 
Not  only  all  are  thine,  but  all  are  Thou." 

He  is  man.  The  motions  of  his  dealing  constitute  the 
experience  of  the  soul. 

"  God's  doors  are  men  :  the  Pariah  hind 
Admits  thee  to  the  perfect  Mind." 

He  dwells  with  all  his  infinitude  in  every  heart.  Many 
recondite  comparisons  and  arguments  are  brought  for- 
ward to  illustrate  how  myriads  may  each  wholly  possess 
him  without  interference.  When  a  million  men  gaze 
on  the  moon,  its  perfect  orb  is  given  to  every  eye.  Hu- 
man personality  is  execrated  as  a  cruel  chain,  a  black 
prison-wall.  Nothing  more  distinguishes  Eastern  from 
Western  thought  than  this  passionate  desecration  of  in- 
dividuality.    All  conscious  spirits,  once  rent  and  dis- 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  83 

cerptod  from  the  one  primeval  substance,  and  banished 
in  material  wanderings,  pine  in  exile,  and  painfully 
yearn  after  the  banished  Lover,  with  unwearied  fond- 
ness, until  he  relents,  and  discloses  his  presence  ;  then  the 
smitten  and  entranced  soul  falters  an  instant,  sinks  into 
his  embrace,  and,  lost  from  the  bitter  trials  of  personal 
being,  is  found  in  the  everlasting  ravishment  of  Divinity. 
Since  God  is  the  only  dynamic  reaUty,  evil,  of  course,  is 
only  a  shadow. 

"  The  world  a  mighty  chess-board  we  should  name  ; 
And  God  both  sides  is  playing  of  the  game  : 
Moses  and  Pharaoh  seem  opposed,  for  they 
Do  thus  God's  greatness  on  two  sides  display  ; 
They  seem  opposed,  but  at  the  root  are  one, 
And  each  his  part  allotted  has  well  done." 

The  last  characteristic  of  Oriental  poetry  to  be  men- 
tioned is  this.  One  can  read  but  little  of  it  without  no- 
ticing how  it  is  filled  with  pensive,  diversified,  forcible, 
still-recurring  contemplations  of  change,  decay,  and  death, 
the  vanity  and  transitoriness  of  all  things  here,  the  frail 
exposures  and  brevity  of  earthly  fortune  and  joy,  the 
swift-coming  certainty  of  dissolution.  Firdousi  once 
struck  in  his  harp  the  string  named  Sighing,  and  these 
are  the  words  its  melting  tones  sounded  :  — 

"  Full  many  a  jocund  spring  has  passed  away, 
And  many  a  flower  has  blossomed  to  decay : 
And  human  life,  still  hastening  to  a  close, 
Finds  in  the  worthless  dust  its  last  repose." 

With  a  deep,  resigned  pathos  sings  Dschelaleddin :  "  If 
this  world  were  our  abiding-place,  we  might  complain 
that  it  makes  our  bed  so  hard ;  but  it  is  only  our  night- 


84  INTRODUCTION   TO 

quarters  on  a  journey,  and  wlio  can  expect  home  com- 
forts ?  "     Life  is  slippery  and  insecure  as  a  tremulous 
drop  of  dew  on  a  lotus-flower.     Yet  these  reflections 
are  not  usually  gloomy  and  complaining,  but  thought- 
fully submissive  and  sweetly  melancholy.     They  seek 
to  find   comfort  for  the   evanescence   of  the  world  in 
thoughts  of  its  evanescence.      And  many  an  Eastern 
poet  in  his  dirges  is  no  dark  raven  croaking  dolefully 
in  the   graveyard  of  his  joys  and  hopes,  but   rather 
a  pathetic  nightingale  in  the  grove  singing  of  the  with- 
ered rose.     And  very  frequently  an  enthusiastic   ex- 
ultation in  the  anticipation  of  the  future,  mingles  even 
with  the  laments  poured  over  the  present. 
"  My  spirit  pines  behind  its  veil  of  clay 
For  light  too  heavenly  perfect  here  to  shi-ne : 
Blest  time  that  tears  the  envious  folds  away 
Now  dimly  darkening  o'er  that  radiant  shrine ! 
Poor  prisoned  exile  from  a  brighter  bower ! 
Not  here,  not  thus,  thy  wonted  lay  can  rise : 
O  burst  thy  bonds  and  let  the  descant  tower, 
With  freshened  rapture,  in  its  native  skies." 

The  Orientals  discourse  so  often  and  so  earnestly  on 
the  fugacity  of  the  world,  the  idleness  of  riches,  the 
fickleness  of  fortune,  and  the  ephemeral  fleetness  of 
hfe,  that  they  have  seemed  to  many  a  robust-hearted 
worldling  lachrymose  sermonizers.  But  herein  the  re- 
gion of  the  earth  they  live  in,  their  past  history,  their 
form  of  government,  their  religion  and  whole  condition, 
excuse  them.  On  that  very  soil,  roam  not  their  minds 
back  to  a  time  when  a  hundred  thousand  warriors  sat 
in  the  gates  of  Mer6e,  —  to  a  period  long  anterior  to  the 
day  when  Moses  wooed  the  daughter  of  Jethro, 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  85 

hour  when,  at  God's  voice  and  finger,  young  Adam,  the 
fresh  rose  of  humanity,  sprang  from  the  magic  mould  of 
Eden  ?  What  scenes  have  come  and  gone  there  hke 
dissolving  views  !  And  now  the  spider  hangs  her  veil 
undisturbed  in  the  halls  of  Kai  Kosrou,  the  owl  stands 
sentinel  on  Haroun  Al-Raschid's  fallen  palace-towers, 
the  lion  forays  in  the  lonesome  gardens  of  Babylon,  and 
the  dromedary  browses  in  the  silent  forecourts  of  Mem- 
phis. Remembering  these  things,  what  morals  of  dis- 
appointment, visions  of  desolation,  emotions  of  bodeful 
mourning,  must  flit  before  them  and  come  over  them  ! 
Upon  their  meditating  imaginations  rises  not  the  awful 
form  of  Egypt,  an  asterism  of  conquering  dynasties  on 
her  glimmering  brow,  the  pyramids  diminished  at  her 
side,  and  a  sombre  landscape  of  vanquished  nations,  for- 
gotten peoples,  and  unreckoned  ages,  sloping  from  her 
feet  ?  Tread  they  not  on  the  ruins  of  the  most  mag- 
nificent kingdoms,  the  richest  states,  the  most  beautiful 
monuments,  of  the  primeval  world  ?  And  of  what  else 
do  these  preach,  but  the  futility  of  plans  and  things,  the 
utter  vanity  of  all  the  pomp  and  might  of  universal 
sway  ?  From  Mount  Kaf  to  the  shores  of  the  ocean, 
from  the  sea  to  the  deserts  of  Arabia  and  the  Thebaid, 
they  gaze  on  the  graves  of  kings,  fragments  of  temples, 
ruins  of  royal  cities,  until  again  their  glances  rest  on  the 
pyramids  and  the  fast-crumbling  tombs  of  imperial  gen- 
erations. The  intelligent  contemplator  of  these  things 
also  beholds  around  him  a  people  sunk  far  below  the 
ability  to  build  such  glorious  structures,  oppressed  with 
the  yoke  of  poverty,  ignorance,  and  despotism,  dwelling 
among  the  sepulchres  of  an  ancestral  time,  and  daily 
destroying  more  of  their  costly  remnants.     Methinks 


86  INTRODUCTION    TO 

such  views  might  teach  even  us,  the  members  of  a 
younger  race  and  inhabitants  of  a  new  land,  to  compose 
many  a  wise  proverb  touching  the  poorness  of  human 
glory,  and  the  perishableness  of  earthly  possessions. 
Ah !  well  indeed  might  the  Eastern  Homer,  at  the 
close  of  his  great  work,  reviewing  the  checkered  annals 
and  pathetic  vicissitudes  of  so  many  ages  and  dynasties, 
exclaim : 

"  I  feel  no  resentment,  I  seek  not  for  strife, 
I  wish  not  for  thrones  and  the  glories  of  life. 
What  is  glory  to  man  ?     An  illusion,  a  cheat. 
What  did  it  for  Jemschid,  the  world  at  his  feet  ?  " 

In  all  ages  and  languages  the  poet  is  a  preacher.  Ge- 
nius normally  loves  justice,  purity,  generosity,  —  every 
virtue  and  every  grace.  The  poet's  nature  and  tem- 
perament are  sensitive  to  all  beauty  and  goodness.  He ' 
is  alive  to  the  impressiveness  of  the  universe,  the  splen- 
dor and  gloom  of  natural  phenomena,  the  portents  of 
fate,  the  eventful  varieties  of  life  and  death.  Beneath 
all  kaleidoscopic  visions  of  vanity,  contemplating  the 
stable  fixtures  of  reality,  how  can  he  help  exclaiming  to 
his  giddier  brothers : 

"  O  fly  the  glimmer  of  these  haunted  plains. 
Whereon  the  demon  of  delusion  reigns ! " 

The  loyal  and  tender  mind  which  is  his  endowment  re- 
sponds with  peculiar  force  and  spontaneity  to  the  at- 
tracting substance  and  truths  of  morality.  From  his 
chief  characteristics  and  vocation  he  feels  deeply,  ob- 
serves sympathizingly,  and  thinks  much,  loves  traditions 
and  history,  is  a  child  of  fancy  and  hope.  But  reflec- 
tion, feeling,  learning,  experience,  and  faith  furnish  a 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  87 

man  those  vivified  lessons  whose  enforcement  is  the 
aim  of  preaching.  Naturally,  therefore,  the  poet  is  a 
preacher.  History  shows  this  true  everywhere,  but 
nowhere  so  emphatically  as  with  the  Orientals.  The 
literature  of  the  East,  whether  Indian,  Arabic,  or  Per- 
sian, reveals  their  poets  as  the  keenest,  tenderest,  sub- 
limest,  most  versatile  of  preachers.  We  cannot  read  a 
fairy  tale  without  finding  in  it,  quoted  from  some  favor- 
ite singer,  sentiments  hke  this :  "  There  is  no  hand  but 
God's  hand  is  above  it,  no  oppressor  who  shall  not  meet 
an  oppressor  stronger  than  himself"  Amidst  a  magical 
story  of  triumphant  cruelty  and  crowned  haughtiness,  of 
lust  and  power,  the  reader  is  startled  with  the  lines : 
"  Every  son  of  woman,  though  long  he  remains  alive, 
must  one  day  be  carried  on  the  curving  bier.  How, 
then,  shall  he  on  whose  cheeks  the  dust  is  to  be  placed, 
find  diversion  or  delight  in  life  ?  "  In  the  full  sweep  of 
his  epical  narrative  Firdousi  pauses  to  moralize,  adjur- 
ing his  reader,  — 

"  Look  at  the  heavens,  how  they  roll  on  ; 
And  look  at  man,  how  soon  he  's  gone  ! 
A  breath  of  wind,  and  then  no  more  :  — 
A  world  like  this  should  man  deplore  ?  " 

Every  sort  of  ethical  and  religious  exhortation,  from  the 
shrewd  maxims  of  prudent  self-culture,  by  the  sharp 
satires  of  lofty  contempt,  to  the  rarest  reaches  of  devo- 
tion, we  find  most  admirably  expounded  and  enforced 
by  these  golden  preachers.  The  following  exquisite 
'fragment,  translated  by  Sir  William  Jones  from  the 
Persian,  has  long  been  familiar  to  thousands  :  — 

"  On  parent  knees,  a  naked,  new-born  child, 
Weeping  thou  sat'st  while  all  around  thee  smiled : 


SB  INTRaDUCTION   TO 

So  live  that,  sinking  in  thy  last  long  sleep, 

Calm  thou  mayst  smile  while  all  around  thee  weep." 

Where  is  the  expediency  of  a  disciplinary  education 
better  urged  than  in  this  image  ? 

"  O  square  thyself  for  use  :  a  stone  that  may 
Fit  in  the  wall,  is  not  left  in  the  way." 

It  would  be  hard  to  satirize  the  heartless  and  savage 
greed  of  utter  selfishness  more  finely  than  it  is  done  in 
the  lines, — 

"  There  is  no  ointment  for  the  wolf's  sore  eyes 
Like  clouds  of  dust  which  from  the  sheep  arise." 

How  strikingly  -the  exposure  of  man,  his  helpless  de- 
pendence, the  need  of  being  always  ready,  are  set  forth 
in  these  brief  words  from  Saadi ! 

"  One  wept  all  night  beside  a  sick  man's  bed  : 
At  dawn  the  sick  was  well,  the  mourner  dead." 

A  whole  world  of  profound  meaning  and  electrifying 
eloquence  are  in  the  following  verses,  with  which  a 
Persian  writer  on  practical  virtue  illumines  one  of  his 
dry  pages :  — 

"  Though  human  life  be  reason's  dream. 
Rouse  thine  ere  morning  wake  it, 
And  offer  up  thy  heart  to  Him 
Who  else,  unasked,  will  take  it." 

With  what  a  beautiful  simplicity  of  wisdom  the  providen- 
tial ordering  of  things  as  they  are  is  justified  in  the  little 
dialogue  succeeding !  Khosru  says  to  his  beloved  Shi- 
reen  :  "  The  Sultanship  w^ould  be  glorious  did  it  remain 
with  one  for  ever."  She  replies :  "  Perceivest  thou  not 
that,  did  it  remain  for  ever  with  one,  thou  wouldst  never 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  89 

have  been  Sultan  at  all?"  The  spirit  of  lowly  love 
and  forgiving  sacrifice  will  scarcely  ever  be  better 
uttered  than  it  is  in  the  well-known  couplet,  — 

"  The  sandal-tree,  most  sacred  tree  of  all, 
Perfumes  the  very  axe  which  bids  it  fall." 

But  as  the  best  single  illustration  known  to  me  of  the 
Oriental  poet  in  the  capacity  of  preacher,  I  will  cite  the 
celebrated  story  of  the  poet  at  the  royal  feast.  I  give 
it  as  versified,  from  Sylvestre  de  Sacy's  Ghrestomathie 
Arabe,  by  Trench,  to  whom  I  am  also  indebted  for 
three  or  four  couplets  previously  quoted. 

THE  FESTIVAL. 

"Five  hundred  princely  guests  before  Haroun  Al-Kaschid 
sate, 
Five  hundred  princely  guests  or  more  admired  his  royal 
state; 

"  For  never  had  that  glory  been  so  royally  displayed. 
Nor  ever  such  a  gorgeous  scene  had  eye  of  man  surveyed. 

"  He,  most  times  meek  of  heart,  yet  now  of  spirit  too  elate, 
Exclaimed :  '  Before  me  Caesars  bow,  on  me  two  empires 
wait. 

" '  Yet  all  our  glories  something  lack,  we  do  our  triumphs 
wrong, 
Until  to  us  reflected  back  as  mirrored  clear  in  song. 

♦* '  Therefore  call  him  to  whom  this  power  is  given,  this  skill 
sublime. 
Now  win  from  us  some  gorgeous  dower  with  song  that  fits 
the  time.* 


90  INTRODUCTION    TO 

"  ♦  My  king,  as  I  behold  thee  now,  may  I  behold  thee  still, 
While  prostrate  worlds  before  thee  bow,  and  wait  upon  thy 
wiU! 

"  *  May  evermore   this  clear,   pure  heaven,  whence  every 
speck  and  stain 
Of  trouble  far  away  is  driven,  above  thy  head  remain  ! ' 

"  The  Caliph  cried :  '  Thou  wishest  well ;  there  waits  thee 
golden  store 
For  this;  —  but  oh!  resume  the  spell;  I  fain  would  listen 
more/ 

" '  Drink  thou  life's  sweetest  goblet  up,  and  may  its  wine, 
For  other's  lips  a  mingled  cup,  be  all  unmixed  for  thine. 

"  *  Live  long ;  —  the  shadow  of  no  grief  come  ever  near  to 
thee  : 
As  thou  in  height  of  place  art  chief,  so  chief  in  gladness  be.' 

"  Haroun  Al-Raschid  cried  again : '  I  thank  thee ;  —  but  pro- 
ceed. 
And  now  take  up  a  higher  strain,  and  win  a  higher  meed.' 

**  Around  that  high,  magnific  hall  one  glance  the  poet  threw. 
On  courtiers,  king,  and  festival,  and  did  the  strain  renew. 

*' '  And  yet,  and  yet  shalt  thou  at  last  lie  stretched  on  bed 
of  death : 
Then,  when  thou  drawest  thick  and  fast  with  sobs  thy  pain- 
ful breath, — 

"  *  When  Azrael  glides  through  guarded  gate,  through  hosts 
that  camp  around 
Their  lord  in  vain,  and  will  not  wait,  —  when  thou  art  sadly 
bound 


^  ORIENTAL   POETRY.  91 

"  *  Unto  thine  house  of  dust  alone,  O  king,  when  thiou  must 
die. 
This  pomp  a  shadow  thou  must  own,  this  glory  all  a  lie/ 

"  Then  darkness  on  all  faces  hung,  and  through  the  banquet 
went 
Low  sounds  the   murmuring  guests  among  of  angry  dis- 
content. 

"And  him  anon  they  fiercely  urge:  'What  guerdon  shall 
be  thine  ? 
Why  didst  thou  bring  this  awful  dirge  'mid  feasts,  and 
flowers,  and  wine  ? 

" '  Our  lord  demanded  in  his  mirth  a  strain  to  heighten  glee  ; 
But,  lo !  at  thine  his  tears  come  forth  in  current  swift  and 
free.' 

"  '  Peace  !  —  not  to  him  rebukes  belong,  but  rather  highest 
grace ; 
He  gave  me  what  I  asked,  a  song  to  fit  the  time  and  place.' 

"All  voices  at  that  voice  were  stilled;  again  the  Caliph 
cried  : 
'  He  saw  our  mouths  with  laughter  filled,  he  saw  us  drunk 
with  pride, 

"  '  And  bade  us  know  that  every  road,  by  monarch  trod  or 
slave. 
Thick  set  with  thorns,  with  roses  strewed,  doth  issue  in  the 
grave.' " 

In  the  absence  of  everything  of  the  kind  from  our 
language,  the  present  crude  and  hasty  sketch  of  hints 
at  the  contents  and  character  of  Orientm  poetry,  may 
be  acceptable  and  useful.     It  may  serve  to  give  many 


92  INTRODUCTION    TO    ORIENTAL    POETRY. 

persons  whose  catholic  thoughtfulness  and  sesthetic 
sensitiveness,  whose  temperament  and  culture,  fit  them 
to  enjoy  it,  at  least  some  slight  acquaintance  with  a 
department  of  literature  unique,  alike  in  essence  and 
treatment,  and  certainly,  in  many  of  the  choicest  quali- 
ties of  poetry,  wholly  imrivalled.  During  the  past  year 
the  United  States  government  has  imported  from  Pales- 
tine several  specimens  of  a  tree  called  the  Carob,  or 
St.  John's  Bread,  and  employed  skilful  arboriculturists 
to  try  and  see  if  it  cannot  be  made  to  grow  and  yield 
fruit,  even  in  a  clime  and  air  so  remote  from  its  own. 
It  blossoms  twice  a  year,  overshadows  a  space  more 
than  thirty  yards  in  diameter,  and  bears  a  ton  of  pods 
full  of  sugar  and  wild-honey.  Who  knows  but  the 
effort  may  be  successful,  and  lead  to  the  transplantation 
and  acclimation  in  America  of  hundreds  of  the  richest 
indigenous  growths  of  Asia  ?  And  so  might  the  present 
humble  work  —  seeking  to  import  into  the  West,  and 
exhibit  there,  some  specimens  of  the  Thought,  Senti- 
ment, and  Fancy  of  the  East  —  be  but  a  forerunner  of 
many  abler  works  in  the  same  direction,  which  shall  be 
worthier  representations,  in  our  English  speech,  of  that 
wonderful  Oriental  poetry  whose  most  characteristic 
treasures  are  as  sparkling  with  the  splendor  of  imagina- 
tive genius,  and  as  odorous  with  the  fragrance  of  ex- 
quisite sensibility,  as  though  they  had  been  "strained 
through  starry  strata  and  the  musky  loam  of  Para- 
dise"! 


METRICAL    SPECIMENS 

OF   THE 

THOUGHT,    SENTIMENT,  AND   FANCY 
OF    THE    ORIENT. 


These  gems,  so  long  from  us  concealed, 
Their  burning  rats  at  length  revealed. 


THE  POETRY  OF  THE  ORIENT. 


THE    INFINITE    COUNTENANCE.  ^ 

WTiere'er  I  look,  one  Face  alone  I  see, 
With  every  attribute  of  beauty  in  it  blent ; 
Still,  still  the  Godhead's  face  entrances  me, 
Yielding  transcendency  of  all  that  can  be  spent. 


SELF-ISOLATION. 

It  needs  not  guards  in  front  and   rear  to  keep  the 

crowd  away ; 
Aversion  to  the  vulgar  throng  will  hold  them  all  at 

bay. 

A    LOVELY    CHILD. 

Feast  of  my  eyes,  sweet  little  maid  ! 

All  loveliness  on  thee  is  laid  ; 

And  for  thy  growing,  growth  was  made. 


-?< 


96  SPECIMENS    OF 

WE    SHALL    MEET   AGAIN. 

The  day-of-separation  sorely  rent  my  heart, 
But  God  shall  rend  the  day-of-separation's  heart. 

THE  BETRAYING  INFLUENCE. 

As  the  rose  doth  its  fragrance  impart 
To  tlie  basket  in  which  it  is  laid, 
Whether  wrought  of  pure  gold  or  of  braid ; 
So,  receiving  wise  men  in  thy  heart, 
Thou  shalt  find,  when  their  persons  depart. 
That  their  wisdom  behind  them  hath  staid. 

THE    GIGANTIC    TRAP   AND    SPORTSMAN. 

All  heaven  and  earth  compose  a  cage. 
And  vice  and  virtue  in  each  age 
Spread  out  a  net.     Life  is  the  prey, 
And  Time  the  fowler.     What  a  play  ! 

MYTHIC    ETYMOLOGY. 

The  name  of  Maya  is  to  Siva's  wife  applied, 
Denoting  that  Illusion  is  Destruction's  bride. 

THE   MYSTIC    CONFOUNDED. 

The  Brahman,  Hargovind,  maintained  with  pride, 
That  no  distinction  was  to  be  descried 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  97 

Between  a  stone,  a  child,  the  sky,  a  pall ; 

For  all  things  formed  but  One,  and  each  was  All. 

Shrewd  Deva  pointed  to  an  ass,  and  asked, 

"  Discern  you  what  this  object  is  ?  "     He  masked 

His  aim,  but  none  the  inference  could  miss  : 

"  Since  you  are  one  with  all,  you  must  be  this  !  " 

life's  allurement. 

Walking,  walking  still,  my  feet  are  weary ; 
All  too  far  off  stands  and  shines  the  city ; 
Blooms  a  warm  tent  near  the  roadside  dreary ; 
Ah,  say,  should  you  blame,  or  should  you  pity  ? 

THE    SILLY   WORSHIPPER. 

The  votary  who  turns  from  Vishnu,  and  another  god 

adores, 
Is  like  the  thirsty  idiot  who  a  well  beside  the  Ganges 

bores. 

A    GOOD    MAN   IN   A   NAUGHTY   WORLD. 

Like  sea-bird's  lucid  wing  beneath  the  black  and  storm- 
fraught  skies. 

Like  pearl  in  ugly  shell  where  ocean's  worthless  rub- 
bish lies. 

Like  lotus  o'er  the  mud  in  virgin  purity  unfurled, 

A  virtuous  man  is  seen  amidst  this  all-polluted  world. 


98  SPECIMENS    OF 


WE    GO    TOO   FAR. 


Tell  me,  why  should  a  man  who  good  honey  can  find 
At  his  feet,  in  the  akka  flower  scenting  the  wind, 
To  the  hills  for  it  go,  leaving  akkas  behind  ? 

FATE   A]^D    THE   ARAB    LOVER. 

Milawne  Tanbe  loved  Ab  Talib's  wife. 
The  fair  and  gentle  Leila  el  Akteel , 

And  vain  of  harp  and  words  is  every  strife 

To  tell  what  love  makes  hearts  like  Tanbe's  feel. 

He  pines  away,  his  love  so  deadly  strong, 

With  maddening  thoughts  of  Leila  el  Akteel ; 

At  length  his  dying  soul  exhales  in  song. 

And  thus  the  notes  in  faltering  accents  steal ;  — 

"Ze^  Leila  el  Akteel,  when  I  am  dead, 

But  come  where  this  poor  body  lies  interred, 

And  speak  to  me,  and  I  shall  lift  my  head 
To  answer,  or  my  tomb  itself  be  heard." 

Three  moons  have  sailed  above  the  poet's  tomb. 
Built  in  the  mountain-side,  his  village  nigh. 

For  camels  twain  the  path  yields  narrow  room. 
But  there  are  two  abreast  now  travelling  by. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  99 

The  burial-place  is  still  and  lonesome  all  f 

Weird  lights  and  shades  the  fate  of  man  rehearse. 

"  Go  yonder,  Leila,  on  that  madman  call ! 
See  how  he  keeps  the  promise  of  his  verse." 

"  A  thing  so  cruel,  Talib,  do  not  bid ; 

I  pray  thee,  let  us  turn  away  and  go." 
Broke  out  the  anger  in  his  bosom  hid,  — 

"  Must  I  enforce  my  order  with  a  blow  ?  " 

Dismounts  she  then,  unveils  her  lovely  face, 
And  gropes  her  way  beneath  the  summit  sheer ; 

And  reaching  soon  her  lover's  sleeping-place. 
She  softly  calls,  "  Poor  Tanbe,  art  thou  here  ?  " 

A  startled  eagle  in  the  cliff  o'erhead 

A  stone  sets  loose,  which  falls  with  thundering  sound, 
Kecoils  from  off  the  tomb  and  strikes  her  dead, 

While  frightful  throno^s  of  echoes  wail  around. 


o" 


« It  was  the  will  of  Allah,  and  her  fate  !  " 

Fierce  Talib  said,  dismounting  from  his  beast ; 

"  To  alter  or  complain  it  is  too  late, 

But  I  will  make  one  poor  amends  at  least." 

His  sword  breaks  in  the  tomb  ;  his  wife  he  bears, 
While  mournful  bodings  through  his  bosom  steal, 

Apart  the  spicy  shroud  of  Tanbe  tears, 
And  places  there  sweet  Leila  el  Akteel. 


100  SPECIMENS    OF 


ACHMED    AND    HIS    MARE. 

An  old  Arabian  tale  the  truth  conveys, 
That  honor's  passion  avarice  outweighs. 


Brave  Achmed  owned  a  mare  of  wondrous  speed ; 
He  prized  her  much  above  his  wife  or  creed. 

And  lest  some  one  should  steal  that  precious  mare, 
He  guarded  her  with  unremitting  care. 

He  tied  her  every  night  before  his  tent ; 

The  fastening-cord  then  round  his  pillow  went. 

When  all  in  slumber  lay,  the  robber  crept. 
Unloosed  the  cord,  and  on  the  courser  leapt. 

"  Wake  up  !  "  he  cries,  —  "  't  is  I,  the  thief,  who  call ; 
See  now  if  she  in  flight  is  chief  of  all !  " 

Mount  Achmed  and  his  tribe  in  wrath  and  shame. 
And  chase  him  as  a  tempest  chases  flame. 

Hot  Achmed  nearly  to  the  robber  came. 

When  thus  he  thought :  "  My  mare  will  lose  her  fame. 

"  If  I  o'ertake  her,  she  is  then  outrun ; 
But  if  I  reach  her  not,  I  am  undone. 

"  O,  better  she  were  stolen  before  my  face 

Than  have  her  vanquished  in  this  desperate  race  ! " 


ORIENTAL    f pETflT.  10  i 

One  secret  sign  his  mare  was  taught  to  heed, 
Whenever  she  must  try  her  utmost  speed. 

He  to  the  robber  screamed,  "  Quick,  pinch  her  ear  !  " 
The  sign  she  felt  with  answering  love  and  fear. 

As  like  a  level  thunderbolt  she  flew, 

All  chase  was  vain,  the  vexed  pursuers  knew. 

Before  this  self-betrayal  blank  surprise 

Fills  Achmed's  comrades,  and  their  wondering  cries 

Demand,  "  How  shall  thy  foolish  act  be  named  ?  "  — 
"  My  mare  is  lost,  her  glory  is  not  shamed," 

He  says  :  "  I  knew  that,  if  her  ear  he  nipped. 
The  darling  prize  could  never  be  outstripped." 


A   LEADER    TO    REPOSE. 

In  the  rest  of  Nirwana  all  sorrows  surcease ; 
Only  Buddha  can  guide  to  that  City  of  Peace, 
Whose  inhabitants  have  the  eternal  release. 


THE    SEGMENT   MOON. 

The  new  moon  now  appears,  in  yon  heaven-tent's  azure- 

hued  swell, 
As  a  cutting  which  lucidly  clean  from  God's  finger-nail 

fell! 


Wli  SPECIMENS    OF 


THE    BURNISHED    CUP. 


The  round  sun  is  a  glittering  goblet  of  gold, 

Borne  about  all  the  world  by  a  blue-handed  God  ; 

And  the  wine  it  profusely  outpours,  as  of  old, 
Is  the  light  that  bedrenches  the  sky  and  the  sod. 

NARROW   IS    THE    WAY. 

One  day  took  Buddha  up  a  speck  of  mould, 
And  said  to  those  who  stood  around  :  "  Behold, 
As  is  this  speck  compared  with  all  the  earth, 
So  are  the  men  whose  next  succeeding  birth 
Will  be  within  a  more  exalted  state, 
Compared  with  those  who  find  a  lower  fate." 

THE    LOVE    OF    MEN. 

Who  feels  not  for  the  sorrows  of  his  fellow-men, 
Should  have  no  house,  but  dwell  in  some  deserted  den. 

THE    LAST    CARRIER. 

The  black  camel  named  Death  kneeleth  once  at  each 

door, 
And  a  mortal  must  mount  to  return  nevermore. 

THE    SUFI'S    SIGH. 

A  bird  of  holiness  am  I, 

Who  from  this  world's  vain  net  would  fly. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  103 


PERSONIFICATION    OF   DAWN  :    RIG   VEDA. 

Similitude  of  all  the  mornings  past, 
And  all  the  mornings  in  the  future  vast, 
Young  Dawn  to-day  her  faultless  bosom  bares 
Her  beauty  every  waking  creature  shares  ; 
She  opes  a  road  before  the  Sun  on  high. 
And,  great  or  small,  she  passes  no  one  by. 


THE    DILIGENT   REDEEMER. 

Each  morn  before  the  dawn  had  lifted  its  pale  latch, 
Abroad  throughout  the  helpless  world  did  Buddha 
look, 

To  see  what  souls  the  net  of  truth  that  day  should  catch. 
And  his  enlightening  measures  in  accordance  took. 

With  sweet  persuading  voice  to  preach  the  truths  sublime 

Whereby  alone  they  could  unto  Nirwana  climb. 


ORIGIN    OF    SIVA'S    THIRD    EYE. 

In  sport  the  wife  of  Siva  placed  her  hands 
Upon  her  husband's  eyes.     Dark  grew  all  lands, 
And  Terror  put  the  Universe  to  rout. 
A  third  eye  in  his  forehead  started  out ; 
And  from  the  sweat  of  his  exertion  fell 
The  mighty  Ganges,  as  the  sages  tell. 


104  specimens  op 

wasana's  proverb. 

Good  deeds  in  this  world  done 
Are  paid  beyond  the  sun  ; 
As  water  on  the  root 
Is  seen  above  in  fruit. 

BUDDHA    TO    HIS    DISCIPLE. 

0,  wise  Anunda !  has  it  never  unto  you  been  shown 
That  all  the  eighty  thousand  precepts  which  rahats  have 

known, 
Are  but  so  many  Buddhas  with  whose  light  the  earth 

is  fraught, 
And  by  whose  guidance  men  may  be  to  blest  Nirwdna 

brought? 

imperturbable  deity. 

Is  God  to  be  disturbed  by  throes  of  men,  O  fool  ? 

Sometimes  the  image  of  the  sun  in  water  seen, 
Is  tremulous  with  the  undulations  of  the  pool ; 

But  not  the  orb  itself  is  shaken  thus,  I  ween. 

identification  of  the  soul. 
The  soul  of  man,  placed  here  amidst  deluding  things. 

Bewildered,  knows  not  what  its  character  may  be, 
Until  the  truth  some  holy  teacher  to  it  brings, 

And  then  it  knows  itself  the  mighty  God  to  be. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  105 

A   HINDOSTANEE    COUPLET. 

Who  shall  anoint  the  heads  of  rats  with  jasmine  oil 
Will  do  a  foolish  thing,  and  worse  than  waste  his  toil. 

AN    EPITHET    BY    INSIGHT. 

When  on  a  stupid  man  the  Arabs  glance, 

They  shrewdly  name  him,  "  Cold-of-countenance  " ! 

WHAT    IS    NIRWANA? 

The  Buddha,  Sakya  Muni,  said  :  "  To  those  who  know 
Of  causes  and  effects  the  actual  connection, 
There  is  no  further  transmigrating  resurrection ; 

From  Being  and  from  Nothing  they  in  freedom  go. 

THE    SIGHT    OF    FRIENDSHIP. 

A  friend  both  wise  and  true  amid  all  shocks" 
Resplendent  shines,  like  fire  upon  a  rock's 
High  top,  which  dissipates  the  darkness  round, 
And  fills  the  travellers  by  with  joy  profound. 

THE    FATAL    KEY  :    MAHOMET. 

The  tongue  is  the  key  of  the  mind ; 
And  whenever  it  opens  the  secret-hung  door, 

What  lies  in  the  storehouse  behind, 
Whether  gems  or  mere  rubbish,  is  hidden  no  more. 


106  SPECIMENS    OF 

NO    SAFETY   AGAINST    STRENGTH. 

Of  old  the  Asuras,  fighting  Indra  through  the  world, 
Obtained  this  boon  from  Brahma,  that  when  Indra  hurled 
His    thunderbolts    against   them,  they  should   not   be 

harmed. 
Then,  fancying  themselves  invulnerably  armed, 
They  scoffed  the  thunder-handed  monarch  to  his  face ; 
His  flaming  wrath  and  ready  thought  kept  even  pace  ; 
Seeing  the  sun-car  roll  along  the  skyey  steep, 
Its  wheel  he  snatched,  and  flung,  and  slew  them  in  a 

heap ! 

PRATER  FROM  THE  RIG  VEDA. 

Adit}' a,  kindly  hearken  to  our  cry  ! 

Remove  from  us  the  manacles  of  sin ; 

Come  as  a  ship,  receive  our  spirits  in, 
And  o'er  a  sea  of  praises  sail  on  high. 


PERSONIFICATION    FROM   RIG   VEDA. 

The  sun  has  yoked  his  seven  self-harnessed  steeds 
In  car  of  congregated  lightnings  formed  ; 

His  way  above  the  purpling  heights  he  leads. 

And  drives  the  glooms  that  in  his  absence  swarmed. 

Soon  as  his  nightly  couch,  refreshed,  he  leaves. 

The  constellations  all  depart  like  thieves. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  107 

METAPHYSICS    FROM    THE    RIG   VEDA. 

Who  the  Being  primeval  has  ever  beheld,  either  dead 
or  at  birth  ? 

And  what  substance  does  that  which  has  nothing  sub- 
stantial sustain  or  enclose  ? 

We  perceive  that  the  breath  and  the  blood  are  pro- 
duced from  the  visible  earth  ; 

But  the  Source  of  the  soul,  who  of  mortals  will  dare  to 
maintain  that  he  knows  ? 

WELCOME    BE    DEATH. 

If  thou,  O  Death  !  a  being  art,  draw  near, 

And  let  me  clasp  thee  ;  for  I  hold  thee  dear. 

I  shall  extort  eternal  life  from  thee  ; 

Thou  canst  but  snatch  this  worn-out  dress  from  me. 

FINAL    CERTITUDE. 

As  the  soul  is  true  certainty's  marrow, 

And  the  body  its  fair  envelope, 
In  each  spirit,  no  matter  how  narrow. 
Ever  trace  the  dear  form  of  the  Friend, 

And  await  till  fruition  of  hope 
AU  illusions  shall  bring  to  an  end. 

THE    saint's    RAPTURE. 

Whenever  I  can  look  upon  my  Lorct's  unveiled  face, 
The  world  is  but  a  dew-drop  in  the  lily-cup  of  space. 


108  specimens  op 

Hariri's  riddles. 
I. 
It  is  a  more  prodigious  tree. 
A  weaker  man  it  seems  to  be. 
It  is  its  fate  to  join  with  all 
The  solid  things  upon  this  ball. 
But  with  the  falling  of  its  foe,  — 
How  strange  it  is  !  —  itself  doth  go. 

•saip  aiopniig  oqj;^ 
*saig  uns  aq;  u8qyV\ 


What  dried-up  stick,  before  or  since  the  flood, 
Was  turned  into  a  thing  of  flesh  and  blood  ? 

•93[BUS  SaqM^JO  pUB  OAl|  y 

85[Bai  s8soj\[  pip  J^B^S  sijj 


What  tongue  ne'er  speaks  a  word,  nor  lives, 
And  yet  most  certain  judgment  gives  ? 
It  doth  no  business  arbitrate. 
Except  with  emphasis  and  weight ; 
Silver  and  gold  to  it  are  like. 
But  More  and  Less  with  difference  strike. 
When  hostile  parties  stand  before 
Its  bar,  their  quarrels  all  are  o'er ; 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  109 

And  equally  content  they  feel, 
Howe'er  its  sentence  makes  them  reel ! 

•SQ^Ds  JO  jred  pooS  B  JO  onSao:^  oq;  si  j^^ 
—  *S[rej  jossanS  pMajqs  on  j9msub  9i{%  jq 


Derived  from  a  stock  as  pure  as  the  stars, 
Malignant  he  grew  in  the  house  of  jars. 
So  long  as  good  he  remain*,  touch  him  not ; 
He  threats,  O  Moslem  !  to  ruin  thy  lot. 
But  when  to  corruption  passes  he  o'er, 
He  then  is  clean,  and  can  injure  no  more. 
A  sinner  he  died,  a  saint  rose  again. 
Who  will  make  to  me  this  miracle  plain  ? 

I  Qxig.  jB^aui^  (juQOOum  Aiojj 
I  QtiTM  SI  p85[Dm  ^oq  *ra8[S0j\[  q 


I  saw  a  maiden  slim 

Who  short  and  shorter  grew, 
Though  still  as  fair  and  trim, 

As  unto  death  she  drew 
With  look  so  bright  and  merry ; 

And  when  her  life  outblew, 
There  nothing  was  to  bury  ! 

'9]pur)Q  'B  SBM  naprem  oqx 


110  SPECIMENS    OP 

THE    MYSTIC    SCHOOL. 

^  Not  a  sign  of  a  man  or  a  world 

On  the  tablet  of  being  appeared. 
Of  a  sudden  through  chaos  was  hurled 

The  creative  command  from  above.  — 
The  dominions  of  darkness  were  cleared, 

The  broad  earth  rose  in  beauty  to  view, 
And  the  soul,  as  a  pupil  all  new. 

Was  breathed  forth  in  the  College  of  Love. 

THE    INDEFILABLE    ONE. 

Although  the  sun  doth  serve  as  eye  to  all 
^  •     The  creatures  living  on  full  many  globes, 

Yet  he  is  not  polluted  in  his  hall 

By  any  filthiness  his  radiance  probes. 
So  God  the  universal  empire  fills, 

And  bare  beneath  his  omnipresent  eyes 
Is  spread  a  multitude  of  loathsome  ills, 

Yet  can  they  not  his  pureness  compromise. 

THE   IMMINENCY    OF    SIN. 

As  he  who  finds  his  head  on  fire 
Extinguishes  the  flame  with  speed  ; 
So  wise  men  will  of  death  take  heed. 
And  swiftly  quench  all  wrong  desire. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  HI 

THE    WORST   PASSION. 

All  other  passions  you  may  yoke  in  steel, 
But  not  the  dropping  eye  of   envy  heal. 

TWO    TALISMANS. 

Two  words  unveil  the  peace  of  heaven  and  earth,  I  know : 
Affection  to  the  friend,  politeness  to  the  foe. 

SELF-SUFFICING    WORTH. 

Will  sparkling  diamonds,  in  the  sunshine  raised, 
Grow  dark  and  worthless  if  they  be  not  praised  ? 

STIMULUS    OF   HEROIC    EXAMPLES. 

For  right  and  freedom  when  man  strives  or  bleeds, 
The  seed  is  sown  for  truest  lords  and  earls  : 
Then  love  and  glory  be  to  those  whose  deeds 
Have  set  the  bracelet  of  the  world  with  pearls ! 

UNIMPROVED    PRIVILEGES. 


Through  Paradise  once  went  a  troop  of  straying  asses, 
Nor  stopped  till  Hell  they  reached,  where  no  cool  spring 

nor  grass  is. 
Like  them  he  acts  who,  bom  with  every  want  prepared 

for, 
Perverts  his  gifts,  and  wastes  his  days,  and  dies  uncared 

for. 


7^ 


112  SPECIMENS    OF 

THE    BRIGHT-HOOFED    CHARGER. 

The  new  moon  is  a  horseshoe  of  gold  wrought  by  God, 
And  therewith  shall  the  steed  of  Abdallah  be  shod. 

THE    DOUBLE-FLAVORED    APPLE. 

In  Shiraz  grows  a  tree,  within  the  Sultan's  bower, 
Which  bears  an  apple  one  half  sweet,  and  one  half  sour. 
Ah !  such  an  apple  is  the  world.     How  sweet  it  tastes 
In  joy !  how  sour  when  turning  round  to  grief  it  hastes  ! 

NATURE    AND    THE    MYSTIC. 

Transfusing  Allah's  beauties  how  shall  I  compare  ? 
The  Day  is  his  sweet  face,  the  Night  his  streaming 
hair. 

THE    SAFE    SECRET. 

A  proverb  says  that  what  to  more  than  two  is  known 
Has  ceased  to  be  a  mystery,  and  public  grown. 
The  proverb's  sense  is  this  :  Those  two  are  but  thy  lips. 
A  secret  is  quite  free  when  once  through  them  it  shps. 

imagination's   POWER. 

Where  but  a  single  ray  of  Mahmoud's  genius  strikes 

and  stops. 
The   common  granite  crumbles  into  rubies,  like  pure 

drops. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  113 

AN   ANTERIOR    STATE:   FROM  KALIDASA. 

The  king,  Dushyanta,  torn  from  fair  Sakiintala  by  fate, 
In  tender  mood,  all  silent  musing,  in  his  garden  sate. 
Upon  his  meditations  unexplained  emotions  stole. 
And  with  the  most  unutterable  longings  filled  his  soul. 
Then,  looking  in  the  soft  and  vasty  blue  above  him 

domed. 
And  seeking  for  the  source  of  the  strange  sadness  which 

he  feels. 
He  sighs, "  Perchance  it  is  the  vague  remembrance  o'er 

me  steals 
Of  dearest  friends  with  whom  in  other  lives  and  spheres 

I  roamed." 

ENVIOUS    VANITY. 

The  foolish  camel  begged  of  Allah  for  a  pair  of  horns  : 
Instead  of  granting   them,  Allah  deprived  him  of  his 

ears! 
Lose  not  the  grace  appropriate  which  already  you  adorns 
By  seeking  what  on  others  as  an  ornament  appears. 


THE   FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 

Zuleika's  eyes  are  suns :  whoever  look  on  these, 
Whate'er  their  faith  before,  at  once  become  Parsees. 


114  SPECIMENS    OF 

THE  ELEPHANT    AND    THE    RHINOCEROS.     R. 

To  fight  the  elephant  rhmoceros  whets  his  horn ; 
For  nearest  blood  relations  oft  as  foes  are  born. 

His    horn   rhinoceros   in   the   elephant's   paunch  doth 

thrust, 
And  on  it  bears  him  off,  —  if  thou  the  tale  canst  trust. 

But  in  his  eyes  run  blood  and  fat  through  the  mangled 

rind, 
Till  with  his  load  upon  the  earth  he  tumbles  blind. 

Soon   then   the   vulture   on   their   helpless   hulks   has 

sprung, 
To  tear  out  fragments  for  itself  and  for  its  young. 


THE    LUMINOUS    TRUTH. 

"  Who  will  give  me  his  heart,"  said  God,  "  my  love  he 

shaU  find." 
With  that  speech  a  resplendent  sun  fell  into  my  mind. 


GET    THEE    BEHIND    ME,    SATAN ! 

Turn  thou  thine  eyes  from  each  seducing  sight, 
For  looking  whets  the  ready  edge  of  appetite. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  115 

INSCRIPTION    OVER   A    PERSIAN    SPRING. 

Beneath  these  pahn-trees  flows  this  fountain, 
In  endless  gush,  the  joy-tears  of  yon  mountain.  . 

Soft-gurgUng  clear,. 

It  bubbles  here, 
Amidst  the  sweet-exhahng  flowers 
O'er  which  the  rock-cliff  sternly  lowers. 
O  pilgrim  !  as  your  parched  lips  lave  it. 
Pour  out  your  thanks  to  Him  who  gave  it. 

idealism:  from  the  dabistan. 

Fartosh  beheved  that  nothing  here  below  was  real ; 
The  world  and  its  inhabitants  were  but  ideal. 
To  teach  his  servant  this  philosophy  he  thought ; 
But  when,  one  day,  his  horse  he  ordered  to  be  brought 
That  he  might  ride,  the  servant  brought  a  wretched  ass ! 
Fartosh  with  heat  demanded  how  this  came  to  pass. 
The  slave  had  stolen  the  horse,  but,  that  shrewd  theft  to 

hide. 
He  with  his  master's  metaphysics  thus  replied  : 
"  Thou  hast  been  thinking  of  a  mental  image  mere  ; 
There  was  no  actual  horse  in  being,  it  is  clear." 
Fartosh  exclaimed :  "  I  see  how  this  has  come  to  pass ; 
You  speak  the  truth  " ;  —  then  plucked  the  saddle  from 

the  ass, 


< 


116  SPECIMENS    OP 

And  put  it  on  the  servant's  back,  and,  bridling  him, 
Mounted  and  lashed  the  fellow  with  unsparing  vim  ; 
And  when  the  crude  philosopher  for  mercy  cried, 
And  asked  the  reason  of  these  blows,  Fartosh  replied  : 
"  There  are  no  blijws,  and  as  a  whip  there  is  no  such 

thing, 
'T  is  only  an  illusion  you  are  suffering ! " 
On  this  the  smarting  slave  repented  of  his  fault, 
And  brought  the  missing  horse  with  no  demurring  halt. 

THE   VICTOR  CHEEK. 

So  beautiful  thy  cheek,  that  from  it  goes 
A  wound  into  the  mind  of  the  red  rose. 
Compared  with  the  blush  from  thy  blood  that  flows, 
All  yellow  with  envy  is  the  red  rose. 


SPEAKING    THE    TRUTH. 

Otaiye  from  his  earliest  youth 
Was  consecrated  unto  truth ; 
And  if  the  universe  must  die 
Unless  Otaiye  told  a  lie. 
He  would  defy  the  last  fate's  crash, 
And  let  all  sink  in  one  pale  ash. 
Or  ere  by  any  means  was  wrung 
A  drop  of  falsehood  from  his  tongue. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  117 


RETALIATION. 


A  sheep  the  slaughtering  butcher  with  his  knife  once 

.   met, 
And  said :  "  Hold  out  your  neck  and  die ! "     The  sheep 

rejoins  : 
"  T  suffer  now  for  all  the  twigs  and  grass  I  've  ate  : 
What  shall  he  suffer,  then,  who  eats  my  fatted  loins  ?  " 


THE    DEVOTED    PUPIL. 

When  Har-govind's   dead  form  was   placed   upon   the 

pyre, 
A  Rajaput  who  loved  him  leaped  amidst  the  fire. 
And,  walking  several  paces  through  the  flames  to  reach 
The  feet  of  him  who  had  been  wont  his  soul  to  teach, 
Laid  down  his  loving  face  against  his  master's  soles, 
Till  naught  was  left  of  him  but  ashes  on  the  coals. 


ZOROASTER  S    LAUGH. 

Zoroaster,  soon  as  bom,  gave  forth  a  laugh  : 
Other  children  weep  when  first  the  air  they  quaff. 
"  Surely  some  great  prophet  in  this  child  we  clasp," 
Cried  his  parents,  both  Dogdiiyah  and  Purshasp. 


118  SPECIMENS    OF 

REGRET    OVER   A    SQUANDERED    YOUTH. 

Ah,  five-and-twentj-  years  ago  had  I  but  planted  seeds 

of  trees, 
How  now  I  should  enjoy  their  shade,  and  see  their  fruit 

swing  in  the  breeze  ! 


THE    CASTES    OF   INDIA.     R. 

From    Brahma's    body    came  —  the    ancient    legend 

lasts  — 
Great  Jambudwipa's  race,  divided  in  four  castes. 
The  teachers  left  the  head  ;  fiom  the  arm  the  warriors 

sprang ; 
The   breast  the  traders  bore  ;  the  foot   the  servants' 

gang. 

How  shattered  is  the  body's  glory  and  its  rest ! 
The  foot  upon  the  earth  stands  level  with  the  breast ; 
The  arm,  deprived  of  force,  has  sunk  like  lifeless  lead ; 
And  helpless  droops,  above,  the  unprotected  head. 


THE  BRAHMIN  AND  THE  SUDRA.  R. 

A  Brahmin  proud,  poverty's  yoke  compelled  to  brook. 
Entered  the  service  of  a  Sudra  as  a  cook. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY,  119 

He  might  his  master's  dishes  carry  up,  the  priest, 
But  could  not  clear  away  the  fragments  of  the  feast. 

'T  would  be  unclean  to  touch  what  impure  hands  have 

left: 
What  booty,  then,  from  all  his  cooking  has  he  reft  ? 

The  Brahmin,  that  he  may  not  starve,  is  wont,  indeed, 
To  eat  his  fill  before  his  master  he  will  feed. 

The  leavings  of  the  cook  the  master's  mouth  supply ; 
The  master's  leavings  are  for  crows  and  dogs  thrown  by. 

It  flatters  him  to  have  a  cook  w^hose  scorn  he  knows 
Will  not  yield  precedence  to  him  o'er  dogs  and  crows  ! 

DEPARTURE    OF    THE    MYTHIC    AGE. 

Hero-days  are  gone  by,  though  our  bosoms  still  sighing 

for  them  bleed ! 
Wholly  vain  is  all  search  for   the  magical  goblet  of 

Jemschid. 

THE    POWER    OF    WORDS.     R. 

The  power  of  words  gives  death  and  life,  makes  war 

and  truce :  — 
In  illustration  this  example  I  adduce. 


120  .     SPECIMENS    OF 

Learn  thou,  as  did  Abou  Adheen,  fit  words  to  use ;  — 
But  as  with  poison  he,  with  balsam  thine  infuse. 

Among  the  Arabs  once  a  deadly  hatred  ran 
Between  the  royal  lines  of  Hira  and  Gassan. 

In  Hira,  Mundar's  son,  Aswad,  sat  on  his  throne. 
Gassan's  array  had  from  him  in  the  battle  flown. 

But  all  of  royal  blood  had  been  pursued  and  caught, 
And  for  release  they  with  a  mighty  ransom  sought. 

Their  wish  Aswad  would  grant ;  but,  with  a  frowning 

mien, 
His  cousin  rose  and  spake,  —  thus  spake  Abou  Adheen : 

"  Not  every  day  does  man  achieve  his  hard  pursuit, 
Not  every  day  does  fortune  offer  ripened  fruit. 

He  is  the  wisest  man,  to  act  or  understand, 
Who  seizes  opportunity  when  near  his  hand ; 

And  he  the  justest  man  who  doth  his  foemen  treat 
With  that  same  fate  which  he  himself  from  them  would 
meet. 

It  is  not  wrong  the  dagger's  edge  to  make  them  taste, 
Which  they  would  make  thee  feel  with  most  unsparing 
haste. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  121 

Forgiveness  is  an  ornament  which  perils  those 
Who  dare  to  wear  it  in  the  face  of  mighty  foes. 

Wouldst  break  the  twig  and  leave  the  root  within  the 

sward  ? 
Who  follow  such  a  course  in  woe  will  reap  reward. 

Do  not  cut  off  the  viper's  tail  as  past  he  glides, 
But  wisely  crush  his  hateful  head  before  he  hides. 

All  men  will  say,  shouldst  thou  dismiss  these  captives 

here, 
Thou  didst  it  not  from  generosity,  but  fear. 

They  offer  ransom  large,  and  magnify  each  gift 

Of  camels,  sheep  ;  precious,  no  doubt,  to  men  of  thrift ! 

What !  shall  they  milk  our  blood,  and  we  take  milk 

from  them  ? 
We  shall  be  cowards  called  in  all  the  tents  of  Shem ! 

From  us  no  ransom  would  they  take  in  herds  or  gold ; 
And  shall  their  forfeit  Uves  by  us  for  pay  be  sold  ?  " 

"  Thou  art  right,"  exclaimed  Aswad,  and  doomed  each 

one  to  fall. 
The  words  of  fierce  Abou  Adheen  thus  slew  them  all. 


122  SPECIMENS    OF 


THE    heart's    ritual. 


A  wooden  rosary  he  nev^  needs, 

Who  tells  in  love  and  thought  the  spirit's  beads. 


THE    CONDITIONAL    VISION. 

Where'er  the  face  of  earnest  faith  thou  brmge^t,  pure 

and  sweet, 
Thou  there  the  smihng  face  of  thine  approving  God 

shalt  meet. 


THE    CONFIDANT  S    CONFIDANT. 

Do  thou  thy  precious  secrets  to  no  other  lend : 

Thy  friend  another  has  :  beware  of  thy  friend's  friend  I 


THE   TWO    TRAVELLERS  :    FROM   SAADI. 

Says  God :  "  Who  comes  towards  me  an  inch  through 

doubtings  dim, 
In  blazing  hght  I  do  approach  a  yard  towards  him.'* 


THE   HAPPY   RESTORATION. 

Life 's  a  loan  from  Him  who  gave  us  being, 
And  its  value  lies  in  homewards  fleeing. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  123 

THOUGHT   FROM    CHARACTER. 

The  rascal,  thinking  from  his  point  of  view, 
•     Concludes  that  all  the  world  are  rascals  too. 

DELAYED    RETRIBUTION. 

God's  mills  grind  slow, 
But  they  grind  woe. 

THE    GOOD    man's    REWARD. 

Who  has  good  deeds  brought  well  to  end, 
For  him  the  gloomy  forests  shine ; 
The  whole  world  is  to  him  a  friend, 
And  all  the  earth  a  diamond  mine. 

THE  PLEDGE  AND  THE  THING. 

FROM   THE   AKHLAK-IJALALY. 

This  life  is  a  dim  pledge  of  friendship  from  our  God : 
Give  me  the  Friend,  and  the  pledge  may  sink  in  the  sod. 

INDEPENDENCE. 

Cling  not  to  aught  that  may  be  snatched  from  o'er  the 

rim  ; 
One  fairy  tale  was  all  that  Jemschid  took  with  him. 


124  SPECIMENS    OF 


THE    TRANSCENDENTALIST. 

If,  whene'er  our  souls  with  Truth's  own  thoughts  are 

swellmg, 
We  for  God  with  pious  fear  and  faith  do  rightly  search, 
We  shall  learn  that  all  the  world  is  Love's  own  dwelling, 
And  but  little  care  for  Moslem  mosque  or  Christian 

church. 


THE    INNERMOST    SHRINE. 

There  is  a  flesh-lump  in  man's  mortal  part, 
And  in  this  lump  of  flesh  doth  beat  the  heart, 
And  in  this  heart  the  deathless  spirit  bides, 
And  in  this  spirit  conscious  mystery  hides. 
And  in  this  mystery  deep  a  light  doth  glow. 
And  in  this  light  learn  thou  thy  God  to  know. 


THE    SOUL    AND    GOD. 

God  and  the  soul  are  two  birds  free. 
And  dwell  together  in  one  tree  : 
This  eateth  various-flavored  fruits 
Of  sense's  thoughts  and  world's  pursuits ; 
That  tasteth  not,  nor  great  nor  small. 
But  silently  beholdeth  all. 


oriental  poetry.  125 

nature's  traditional  lament. 

The  sweet  current  of  primeval  love  still  flows 
Throughout  the  veins  of  all  creation ;  else  why  mourn 
The  broken-hearted  bulbuls  for  the  perished  rose, 
Or  sigh  the  gales  along  the  beds  dried  streams  have 
worn  ? 


reflections  of  divinity. 

Mirrors  God  maketh  all  atoms  in  space, 
And  fronteth  each  one  with  his  perfect  face. 


THERE    IS    NO    DANGER. 

Need'st  thou  to  move 
Thy  skirts  above 

Thy  knees, 
In  passing  through 
That  flood  of  glue, 

This  world? 
Why^  I  did  even 
Pass  through  the  seven 

Great  seas. 
And  not  a  drop 
My  foot's  bare  top 

Impearled. 


126  SPECIMENS    OF 


LOST   AND    FOUND. 


Thou  that  wouldst  find  the  Lost  One,  lose  thyself! 
Nothing  but  self  thyself  from  Him  divides. 
Ask  ye  how  I  o'erpassed  the  dreary  gulf? 
One  step  beyond  myself,  and  naught  besides. 

THE   beggar's    courage  :    DSCHELLALEDDIN   BUMT. 

To  heaven  approached  a  Siifi  saint, 
From  groping  in  the  darkness  late, 

And,  tapping  timidly  and  faint. 
Besought  admission  at  God's  gate. 

Said  God,  "  Who  seeks  to  enter  here  ?  " 
"  'T  is  I,  dear  Friend,"  the  saint  replied, 

And  trembled  much  with  hope  and  fear. 
"  If  it  be  thou,  without  abide." 

Sadly  to  earth  the  poor  saint  turned, 
To  bear  the  scourgings  of  life's  rods ; 

But  aye  his  heart  within  him  yearned 
To  mix  and  lose  its  love  in  God's. 

He  roamed  alone  through  weary  years, 
By  cruel  men  still  scorned  and  mocked, 

Until,  from  faith's  pure  fires  and  tears, 
Again  he  rose,  and  modest  knocked. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  127 

Asked  God,  "  Who  now  is  at  the  door  ?  " 

"  It  is  thyself,  beloved  Lord ! " 
Answered  the  saint,  in  doubt  no  more, 

But  clasped  and  rapt  in  his  reward. 

THE    VANITY    OP   RANK. 

What  matter  will  it  be,  O  mortal  man,  when  thou  art 

dying. 
Whether  upon  a  throne  or  on  the  bare  earth  thou  art 

lying? 

^  THE    ECSTATIC    HOUR    OP    DEATH. 

Ah,  when,  at  last,  in  solitude  I  meet 
The  Friend  Divine,  whose  love  is  safe  for  me, 
O,  I  shall  tread  the  worlds  beneath  my  feet, 
And  upwai'ds  soar  in  endless  ecstasy, 

ALL    IS    SAFE. 

Whatever  road  I  take,  it  joins  the  street 
Which  leadeth  all  who  walk  it  Thee  to  meet. 

THE    PILGRIM    TO    DEITY. 

Heedless,  allured,  one  moment  I  forgot  my  goal : 

A  thousand  years  it  stretched  the  journey  of  my  soul. 


128  SPECIMENS    OF 

THE    LUXURIOUS   PROTECTION". 

For  faith  in  God's  protecting  love  is  to  believing  souls 
Like  a  cool  shade  to  one  who  in  a  blistering  desert 
strolls. 


A   RANK   IN   JOYS. 

My  heart !  abstain  thou  from  the  senses'  dear  wine-bowl ; 
Diviner  joys  thy  God  intends  shall  through  thee  roll. 


THE  VOLUPTUARY  AND  THE  HERO. 

Whoever  clasps  the  smiling  and  soft-shining  taper, 
Will  find  it  end  in  darkness  and  in  noisome  vapor. 
With  pleasure  so ;  but  who  strikes  self-denial's  flint, 
May  light  his  spu-it's  fires  at  the  clean  sparkle's  glint. 

A   HIDDEN   PERIL. 

The  thicket  of  lust  never  deem  it  safe  to  pass  by : 
The  tiger  of  pain  in  it  crouched  doth  probably  lie. 

A  PLEASURE  ABOYE  PLEASURE. 

Austerity's  pleasure  didst  thou  but  know, 

For  pleasure's  pleasure  thou  no  more  wouldst  glow. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  129 


THE   BEATIFIC   VISION. 


The  dazzling  beauty  of  the  Loved  One  shmes  unseen, 
And  self  '&  the  curtain  o'er  the  road ;  away,  O  screen  ! 

PRETENCE   AND    PERFORMANCE. 

The  whole  deposit  of  the  sea's  eternal  roar 

Is  but  a  murmured  fringe  of  froth  that  lines  the  shore. 

THE    FIRST    TIME    OR   NEVER. 

The  Once  makes 

The  thrift 
Of  the  thriver ; 
The  Twice  breaks 

The  drift 
Of  the  driver. 
The  Once  flings 

The  stone 
From  the  stumbler; 
The  Twice  brings 

The  groan 
From  the  grumbler. 
The  Once  turns 

The  thought 
Of  the  thinker ; 


130  SPECIMENS    OP 

The  Twice  bums, 

The  drought 
Of  the  drinker. 
The  Once  lights 

The  search 
Of  the  seeker ; 
The  Twice  slights 

The  lurch 
Of  the  leaker. 
The  Once  crowns 

The  choice 
Of  the  chooser; 
The  Twice  frowns, 

The  loss 
Of  the  loser. 

THE    WORTHLESS    ENRICHED. 

The  love  of  life  would  ne'er  my  thoughts  oppress, 
Did  not  the  life  of  love  my  heart  possess. 

THE    SAFE    COFFER. 

Be  diadem  or  helmet  on  thy  head, 
It  must  be  arrow-pierced,  and  thou  lie  dead. 
Then  every  man  whose  mind  is  wisdom  stocked 
Will  strive  to  have  his  wealth  in  heaven  locked. 


oriental  poetry.  131 

1!he  prefiguring  blast. 

The  fear  of  hell  my  soul  could  never  know, 
Till  sin  had  made  its  fires  within  me  glow. 


sy;^pathy's  tenderness. 

If  in  my  body  chance  to  break  a  thorn, 
I  care  not  for  the  trifling  pain ; 
But  for  the  hapless  twig  I  mourn, 
Which  never  can  be  whole  again.    • 

THE    soul's    triumph    OVER   NATURE. 

Pure  spirit  is  the  wine  of  God's  will ; 
All  matter  is  the  scum  of  his  cup : 
So  the  former  life's  goblet  shall  fill, 
When  the  latter  is  all  drunken  up. 

WORTH    OF    wisdom. 

Vishnu  asked  Bal  to  take  his  choice. 
With  five  wise  men  to  visit  hell. 
Or  with  five  ignorant  visit  heaven. 
Then  quick  did  Bal  in  heart  rejoice, 
And  chose  in  hell  with  the  wise  to  dwell ; 
For  heaven  is  hell,  with  folly's  bell ; 
And  hell  is  heaven,  with  wisdom's  leaven. 


132  SPECIMENS    OF 


THE  SECRET  OF   PIETY. 


A  pining  sceptic  towards  a  raptured  saint  inclined, 
And  asked  him  how  the  Boundless  Lover,  God,  to  find. 
A  smile  divine  across  the  saint's  pale  features  stole, 
As  thus  in  wise  and  pitying  love  he  poured  his  soul : 
"  Ah,  hapless  wanderer !  long  from  liie's  true  bliss  shut 

out. 
In  night  of  sin  forlorn  and  wilderness  of  doubt. 
Prepared  am  I  with  thy  sad  lot  to  sympathize. 
For  o'er  my  own  dim  tracks  thy  dark  experience  lies. 
Now  list  and  ponder  deep,  the  secret  while  I  tell 
Of  all  the  lore  with  which  angelic  bosoms  swell. 
Whoso  would  careless  tread  one  worm  that  crawls  the 

sod. 
That  cruel  man  is  darkly  alienate  from  God ; 
But  he  that  lives,  embracing  all  that  is,  in  love. 
To  dwell  with  him  God  bursts  all  bounds,  below,  above." 

RECONCILIATION. 

To  bring  God  back  when  he  my  selfhood's  sin  forsook, 
One  little  step  beyond  myself  was  all  it  took. 

job's  CAT. 

In  the  widow's  house 
There  is  no  fat  mouse. 


oriental  poetry.  133 

life's   offer. 

Our  life  sells  pearls ;      , 
And,  if  we  ask  it, 
Her  wheel,  with  whirls, 
A  golden  basket 
Full  of  them  hurls 
Into  our  casket : 
But  for  those  churls 
Who  will  not  ask  it. 
The  fire-pain  curls 
Where  hell  must  mask  it ; 
And  in  that  world's 
Woe  Hes  their  task  yet. 

every  ill  alleviated. 

Unmitigated  evil  is  as  rare 

As  wings  upon  a  cat,  or  flowers  of  air. 

As  rabbits'  horns,  or  ropes  of  tortoise-hair. 

THE   finite    contains    THE    INFINITE. 

On  those  who  love  the  loving  God, 
He  does  himself  complete  bestow : 
With  no  division  and  no  waste. 
He  fills  each  heart  with  all  the  heaven : 


134  SPECIMENS    OF 

So  when  men's  eyes  from  earth's  low  sod 
Behold  the  moon's  transcendent  glow, 
Its  image,  calm  and  undefaced. 
To  each  in  full  perfection 's  given. 


THE    TKUE     GOD. 

A  million  beats  of  MarCs  united  heart 
Are  fainter  than  one  throb  of  Ocean's  pulse, 
Which  thrills  her  awful  veins  in  every  part, 
And  throws  up  waifs  of  shells  and  crimson  dulse. 

A  miUion  tides  of  Ocean's  weltering  breast 
Are  weaker  than  one  glance  that  lights  the  Sun, 
When  in  the  bannered  east  he  breaks  his  rest, 
His  race  gigantic  round  the  sky  to  run. 

A  million  journeys  of  the  Sun's  swift  foot 
Are  smaller  than  one  limit  of  the  space 
Through  which  the  Tree  of  Life  from  Being's  root 
Upsprings,  powdered  with  stars,  in  heaven's  face. 

A  million  Trees  of  Life,  with  all  their  loads. 

But  poorly  God's  profound  domain  reveal : 

The  crowds  of  worlds  that    throng  heaven's  thickest 

roads 
Are  letters  of  a  Word  his  lips  unseal. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  135 

A  million  Words,  with  universes  rife, 
His  all-creative  might  can  nowise  drain : 
When  closing  order  bounds  chaotic  strife, 
His  Fulness  as  before  doth  still  remain. 

That  Fulness  such,  in  truth's  stupendous  force, 
That  to  His  thought  serene  and  tender  gaze 
The  frailest  insect,  warbling  through  its  course. 
Is  just  as  near  as  seraph  in  his  blaze. 

Yea,  though  all  worlds  of  space  would  be,  combined. 

Too  small  to  fit  His  finger  to  a  ring ; 

Yet  is  He  not  to  humblest  creatures  blind. 

But  daily  spreads  their  board,  and  hears  them  sing. 

Each  tear  forlorn  that  trickles  down  man's  cheeks, 

He  marks,  and  pities  every  aching  sigh  ; 

To  give  them  compensation  ever  seeks ; 

Their  life-woes  shares ;  and  takes  them  when  they  die. 

And  in  His  home,  —  though  paeans  swept  the  halls, 
And  glory  domed  the  universal  height,  — 
K  over  one  poor  soul  hell  spread  its  palls. 
There  would  be  night,  and  waiKng  in  the  night. 

THE    DIVINE    JUDGMENT. 

God  asks,  not  "  To  what  sect  did  he  belong  ?  *,' 
But  "  Did  he  do  the  right,  or  love  the  wrong  ?  " 


186  SPECIMENS    OF 

THE    LETTER    AND    THE    SPIRIT. 

Millions  of  men  the  Koran  and  the  Purans  read, 
And  so  the  Bible  read  as  many  millions  more ; 
But  all  this  reading  not  a  single  soul  can  lead 
To  fuU  salvation  when  all  outward  things  are  o'er. 
To  be  upright  and  kind  when  thy  poor  brothers  bleed, 
Will  aid  thy  soul  beyond  all  power  of  formal  lore. 


THE    UNWALLED    HOUSE    OF    GOD. 

The  holy  Nanac  on  the  ground,  one  day, 

Reclining,  with  his  feet  towards  Mecca,  lay. 

A  passing  Moslem  priest,  offended,  saw. 

And,  flaming  for  the  honor  of  his  law. 

Exclaimed,  "  Base  infidel,  thy  prayers  repeat ! 

Towards  Allah's  house  how  dar'st  thou  turn  thy  feet  ? ' 

Before  the  Moslem's  shallow  accents  died. 

The  pious  but  indignant  Nanac  cried, 

"  And  turn  them,  if  thou  canst,  towards  any  spot 

Wherein  the  awful  House  of  God  is  not'^ 


THE  PARTAKER  AS  BAD  AS  THE  THIEF. 

The  sin  the  same,  whether  one  kills  a  fish, 
Or  whether  he  devours  it  from  the  dish. 


ORIKNTAL    POETRY.  137 

LIGHT-HOUSE    OF   IMMORTALITY. 
FROM  THE  AKHLAK-IJALALY. 

While  selfish  hatred's  storm-flood  roars, 
Love,  like  a  beacon's  friendly  I'ay, 
Bright-shining  on  man's  fleshly  shores, 
Illumes,  and  yet  consumes,  his  clay. 
Mysterious  slave  to  mortal  earth, 
Despotic  foe  to  earthly  leaven. 
It  melts  the  dross  from  out  the  worth. 
And  purifies  the  soul  for  heaven. 

THE   PURSUERS   PURSUING   THEMSELVES. 

A  band  of  princes,  thirty-two, 
Pursuing  once  a  rebel  thief. 
Of  wise  Gautama  came  in  view. 
And  thus  addressed  they  him  in  brief: 

"  Hast  thou  a  robber  seen  pass  by  ? 
We  are  in  earnest  search  for  him." 
Gautama  straightway  made  reply. 
While  light  broke  o'er  their  spirits  dim : 

"  Which  is  for  you  the  better  part,  — 
For  him,  or  for  yourselves,  to  seek  ?  " 
The  warning  question  pierced  each  heart : 
They  turned  them  back,  thoughtful  and  meek. 


138  SPECIMENS    OF 

THE  Buddhist's  song  :  gautama. 

A  pilgrim  through  eternity, 

In  countless  births  have  I  been  born, 

And  toiled  the  Architect  to  see 

Who  builds  my  soul's  live  house  in  scorn. 

O  painful  is  the  road  of  birth  ! 
By  which,  from  house  to  house  made  o'er, 
Each  house  displays  the  kind  and  worth 
Of  the  desires  I  loved  before. 

Dread  Architect !  I  now  have  seen 
Thy  face,  and  seized  thy  precept's  law ; 
Of  all  the  houses  which  have  been, 
Not  one  again  my  soul  can  draw. 

Thy  rafters  crushed,  thy  ridge-pole  too, 
Thy  work,  O  Builder  !  now  is  o'er ; 
My  spirit  feels  Nirwana  true, 
And  I  shall  transmigrate  no  more. 

THE    GENUINE    CATHOLIC    CHURCH. 

He  only  is  a  true  Hindu  whose  heart  is  just. 
And  he  a  good  Mohammedan  whose  life  is  pure : 
Seek  right  and  purity  the  faithful  Christian  must. 
And  this  of  heaven  will  make  the  honest  Pagan  sure. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  139 


CONVERSION    OF    A   KING. 


Wijeeta  was  the  richest  king  on  earth ; 
Yet  knew  his  heart  of  joy  and  peace  a  dearth. 
Buddha  approached  him  once,  in  thoughtful  mood, 
And  said  to  him :  "  Thine  ancestors  so  good,  — 
Why  did  they  not  their  treasure  with  them  take, 
When  forced  of  life's  bright  feast  an  end  to  make  ? 
Ah !  was  it  not  because  no  man  can  bear, 
In  death,  aught  but  his  naked  merits  there  ?  " 
The  king,  appalled,  sank  back  upon  his  couch ; 
Fierce  fears  throughout  his  soul  began  to  crouch ; 
His  wealth,  for  Buddha's  sake,  he  gave  away, 
And  a  recluse  became  that  very  day. 

POWER    OF    A    TRUE    OR   FALSE   FAITH. 

When  man  in  error  gropes, 
Night  under  night  still  opes : 
Goodness  is  horror  then, 
And  demons  dwell  in  men. 
But  when  he  thinks  aright, 
A  fount  of  dazzling  light 
From  evil's  darkness  bursts, 
To  satiate  his  thirsts. 
A  faith  of  truth  and  love 
Melts  hell  in  heaven  above ; 


140  SPECIMENS    OP 

A  faith  of  lies,  hate,  woe, 
Sinks  heaven  in  hell  below. 
Whoever  thinks  with  God 
Doth  grasp  fate's  mighty  rod. 


THE    lover's    offer. 

"Were  mine  the  wealth  of  Croesus  old ; 
Had  I  as  many  diamonds  bright 
As  leaves  that  shake  in  summer's  light, 
Or  sands  o'er  which  the  deep  hath  rolled ; 

Had  I  as  many  purest  pearls 

As  grass-blades  hang  upon  the  lea, 

Or  ripples  dance  along  the  sea 

When  o'er  its  breast  the  zephyr  curls  j  — 

Had  I  a  palace,  crystal  built, 

And  filled  as  full  of  golden  bars 

As  yonder  heaven  is  filled  with  stars 

When  evening  fair  the  skies  hath  gilt ;  — 

Like  lordly  knights  and  kingly  earls 
With  orders  were  I  titled  o'er 
As  thick  as  waves  that  kiss  the  shore 
When  Wind  his  banner  broad  unfurls ;  — 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  141 

I  swear  by  yon  bright  worlds  above, 
I  'd  give  them  all  this  blessed  night 
To  meet  beneath  this  fair  moonlight, 
And  clasp  thee  in  my  arms,  my  Love  ! 

INEVITABLE    PUNISHMENT. 

All  vice  to  which  man  yields  .in  greed  to  do  it. 
Or  soon  or  late,  be  sure,  he  '11  sorely  me  it. 
Experience  deep,  howe'er  false  seemings  blind  him, 
Surcharged  with  retribution,  out  will  find  him. 
It  locks  upon  his  soul  a  fatal  fetter. 
Explodes  throughout  his  face  in  horrid  tetter, 
Over  his  shameless  eyeballs  brings  a  blurring. 
Keeps  in  his  heart  a  deadly  fear-load  stirring. 
At  all  pure  joys  with  fiendish  talon  snatches. 
The  noblest  traits  from  out  his  being  catches. 
Each  beam  and  hope  and  vision  darkens, 
His  conscience  stuns  whene'er  towards  heaven  he  heark- 
ens, 
On  goading  thorns  his  sleepless  longings  tosses, 
With  salt  remorse-foam  pleasure's  waves  embosses, 
Sometimes  from  phantom-fears  impels  him  flying. 
Sometimes  in  frantic  horrors  shrouds  his  dying. 
Now  turns  his  dearest  friends  to  cease  to  love  him. 
Now  spreads  avenging  Siva's  frowns  above  him, 
Makes  this  world  black  with  prison-walls  and  gibbets. 
And,  in  the  next,  escape  from  hell  prohibits. 


142  SPECIMENS    OF 

The  whole  creation's  strange  and  endless  dealing, 
In  spite  of  shields  and  veils  and  arts  concealing, 
Proclaims,  that  whosoe'er  is  long  a  sinner 
Can  only  be  by  it  of  woe  a  winner. 


THE    BUTTERFLY  S    REVENGE. 

An  ugly  caterpillar  once  uplooking 
To  a  humming-bird,  in  gorgeous  colors  gleaming, 
Thus  said  to  him,  her  furry  throat  upcrooking : 
"  Despise  me  not,  though  painful  now  my  seeming 
In  shape  and  guise  and  movement  of  each  feature. 
And  thou  art  such  a  bright,  celestial  creature." 

The  rainbow  birdling  scorned  to  make  replying. 
And  gave  the  wretched  insect's  love  its  dooming. 
In  grief  and  birth  the  poor  grub  writhed  as  dying. 
And  soon  a  butterfly,  in  splendors  blooming, 
Uprose  from  out  the  slough  the  proud  one  hated. 
In  dazzling  hues,  with  wings  of  wonder  mated. 

The  humming-bird,  unconscious  of  this  changing. 
Above  a  bush  of  roses  red  was  hovering. 
When  lo  !  appeared  our  gay  one  in  her  ranging. 
The  hummer,  smit  with  love,  himself  recovering. 
Began  to  sigh  a  sweet  and  melting  ditty. 
And  pleaded  first  for  love,  and  then  for  pity. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  143 

The  butterfly  said  :    "  Vain  thy  suit  and  urging ; 

For  I  remember  well,  though  thou  forgettest, 

That  when  from  lowliness  I  was  emerging, 

Thou    spurnedst   her  on   whom   now    thy  heart   thou 

settest. 
By  thee,  when  low  and  homely,  I  was  scorned ; 
Now  thee  I  scorn,  with  magic  charms  adorned." 

THE    BITTER    CUP    SWEET. 

My  God  once  mixed  a  harsh  cup,  for  me  to  drink  from  it, 

And  it  was  full  of  acrid  bitterness  intensest ; 

The  black  and  nauseating  draught  did  make  me  shrink 

from  it. 
And  cry,  "  O  Thou  who  every  draught  alike  dispensest, 
This  cup  of  anguish  sore,  bid  me  not  to  quaff  of  it, 
Or  pour  away  the  dregs  and  the  deadliest  half  of  it ! " 
But  still  the  cup  He  held ;  and  seeing  He  ordained  it, 
One   glance   at   Him,  —  it   turned  to  sweetness   as  I 

drained  it. 

WHY    SLEEP    RESTORES. 

Wlien  we  are  wearied  out  with  toil, 
And  bruised  with  pains  of  earth's  turmoil, 
K  for  a  time  of  slumber  deep 
We  lose  ourselves  in  dreams  and  sleep. 


144  SPECIMENS    OF 

We  rise,  from  strength's  exhaustless  hoard 
Enriched  and  thoroughly  restored, 
When,  but  a  httle  while  before, 
We  were  so  feeble,  drained,  and  poor. 
Thinker  and  saint,  man  good  and  wise, 
Canst  tell  me  whence  this  doth  arise  ? 
Dear  friend,  I  verily  can  tell 
The  cause,  and  explicate  it  well. 
With  grief  and  blows  when  worn  and  torn, 
If  sleep  we  may,  we  wake  at  mom 
Refreshed  in  every  nerve  and  thought. 
Because  this  marvel  hath  been  wrought :  — 
The  instant  that  asleep  we  fall, 
The  soul  escapes  its  fleshly  pall, 
And  is  absorbed  in  heaven  from  this, 
To  lave  with  love  and  bathe  in  bliss 
Its  stiffened  limbs  and  flagging  powers 
Through  alf  the  nightly  slumberous  hours ; 
And  when  returning  mom  arrives, 
It  fresh  from  God's  embrace  revives. 


THE   PRIMEVAL    CUP    OP    GUILT, 
OR   A    SUFI    POLEMIC   AGAINST    CALVIN. 

A  mystic  cup  was  mixed  of  Adam's  guilt, 
And  o'er  the  world  and  through  the  ages  spilt 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  145 

It  every  brightness  with  a  darkness  tinged, 

The  earth  from  out  its  orbit  it  unhinged, 

It  burst  discordant  through  volcanic  vents. 

It  wrenched  all  nature's  breast  in  earthquake  rents. 

It  woke  in  wasp  and  brute  all  hatred's  brood, 

It  stirred  in  each  fierce  breast  the  thirst  for  blood ; 

And  when  in  course  terrific  it  had  run 

Through  every  lower  grade  beneath  the  sun, 

Its  drops  on  human  generations  dripped. 

And  all  their  worth  and  virtue  from  them  stripped. 

Out  from  that  cup  the  direful  stream  still  flows 

Of  poison,  blackness,  blasting  fire,  and  woes, 

O'erspreads  creation  with  a  pall  of  gloom. 

And  rises  slowly  towards  the  brim  of  doom. 

Some  sprinkling  from  that  cup  has  spotted  all. 

And  plunged  them  in  a  hopeless  common  fall, 

Condemned  past  hope  to  writhe  in  tortures  fell, 

Which  ne'er  can  cleanse  the  destined  hosts  of  helL 

One  little  sin  that  mystic  cup  did  fill. 

And  yet  it  poureth  on,  and  poureth  still 

The  tainting  horrors  of  all  pain  and  ill ; 

Nor  will  its  dreadful  pouring  stop  at  last 

Until  the  final  flame  the  world  shall  blast. 

And  the  everlasting  sentence  hath  been  passed. 

When  man's  poor  race  exists  on  earth  no  more, 

The  frightful  flood  shall  cease  its  issuing  roar. 

But  then  the  boundless  dregs  of  that  small  cup 


146  SPECIMENS    OF 

In  horrid  hell  shall  all  be  gathered  up, 
To  seethe  and  howl  in  endless  anguish  dire, 
The  food  of  deathless  worm  and  quenchless  fire, 
Whose  wails  and  dashing  waves'  eternal  din 
Proclaim  in  glee  the  victory  of  sin. 

0  that  I  the  God  of  heaven  had  been ! 
Instead  of  letting  evil  triumph  then, 
When  foul  temptation's  false  and  fatal  tricks 
The  man  beguiled  the  cup  of  guilt  to  mix, 

1  would  have  snatched  the  enchanted  goblet  up,  — 
Have  snatched  the  mystic  draught  of  that  strange  cup 
From  igrjorant  Adam's  trembling  hand  and  lip 
Before  he  could  have  drawn  a  single  sip, 

And  dashed  the  sea  of  fire  it  latent  held 
Down  Satan's  throat,  the  while  he  baffled  yelled ! 
In  glory  thus  I  would  have  crushed  the  plot 
Wliich  now  with  failure  doth  creation  blot. 
For  Satan's  proud  success  is  blazed  abroad, 
When  evil  thwarts  the  primal  plan  of  God, 
To  make  a  world  of  fairy  mount  and  glen. 
Possessed  for  aye  by  pure  and  happy  men. 


DALLIANCE    OF    SEA   AND    WIND. 

The  Sea  in  gladness  heaves  her  yielding  form, 
To  meet  her  boisterous  paramour,  the  Storm. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  147 

FIFTEEN    FRAGMENTS    FROM    HAFIZ. 

Sweet  Hafiz  is  not  dead,  although  his  body  turned 

To  dust  in  Eastern  Shiraz  centuries  ago. 

He  lives  and  strikes  the  lyre  which  in  his  hand  then 

burned : 
This  day  his  thoughts  through  Western  nations  sound 

and  glow. 

I.     THE   DRUNKEN   SAINt's   JUSTIFICATION. 

Know  you  the  true  reason  and  cause  why  it  is  that  I 

drink  ? 
From   pride   and   from   folly  I    strutted   and   swelled 

through  the  town : 
And  now  those  detestable  vices,  from  which  the  saints 

shrink, 
I  will  in  the  depths  of  the  ocean  of  drunkenness  drown  ? 

II.     THE    INFRANGIBLE   TIE. 

A  little  Samson  is  my  heart, 
Who  breaks  his  chains  with  ease  apart ; 
And  at  each  futile  fetter  mocks. 
Except  the  band  of  Leila's  locks ! 

III.     THE    BLINDING   REVELATION. 

Wouldst  thou  show  us  eternal  life  through  dazzling  rift ; 
Then  bid  the  east- wind  from  thy  face  that  thin  veil  Hft. 


148  SPECIMENS  OP 

IV.  DULLARD  AND  GENIUS. 

Did  Understanding  know  how  hearts  are  blest 
When  fettered  in  the  locks  of  loved  one's  hair, 
The  poor  devil  a  moment  would  not  rest 
Till  he  had  lost  his  understanding  there ! 

V.     THE   reveller's   VOW. 

Glass  upon  glass  I  will  clink ; 
Kiss  after  kiss  I  will  spend ; 
Draught  upon  draught  I  will  drink ; 
And  I  will  love  without  end ! 

VI.     THE   PRECIOUS   FUGITIVE   CAUGHT. 

She  shyly  lifts  her  eye's  blue  windowlet ; 
Her  heart  flies  out  into  my  bosom's  net. 

VII.     THE    MONASTERY   AND   THE   INN. 

Never  did  the  gloomy  convent  win 
Any  joy  or  use  for  rich  or  poor. 
Therefore  let  us  throng  the  tavern  door, 
Crying,  "  Generous  host,  O  let  us  in ! " 

VIII.     THE    cheerful   WORLD-INN. 

With  his  morose  advice  the  Dervish  gaunt 
Would  make  my  heart  so  empty  and  so  sad, 
That,  were  it  not  for  the  old  inn  I  haunt, 
Full  long  ago  my  hfe  I  ended  had  ! 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  149 

IX.     THE   EARTH   A   BITTER    CFP. 

The  world  is  bitter  as  the  juice  from  aloes  beaten ; 
Yet  know  I  lips  which  all  its  bitterness  can  sweeten ! 


X.     THE     GREATER   SINNER    THE    BETTER   SAINT. 

Dervish !  does  your  galling  envy  make  it  hurt  you, 
When  you  think  that  Hafiz'  sins  the  prize  of  virtue 
Win  ?     But  he  that  sins  like  him,  O  formal  weeper ! 
In  God's  mercy-ocean  only  sinks  the  deeper. 

XI.     THE    SWEETEST    MOUTH. 

Let  no  bard,  from  the  North  to  the  South, 
My  Zuleika  compare  with  a  bud ; 
Because  ne'er  such  a  dainty  sweet  mouth 
Had  a  bud,  since  subsided  the  flood ! 

XII.  A  FRESH  MIRACLE. 

Pupil,  genuine  wisdom  learn. 
Yonder,  see  that  bush  of  roses : 
How  before  thee  it  doth  burn, 
Like  the  burning  bush  of  Moses  ! 
Hearken,  and  thou  now  shalt  hear, 
If  thy  soul 's  not  deaf  nor  flighty, 
How  from  out  it,  soft  and  clear. 
Speaks  to  thee  the  Lord  Almighty ! 


150  SPECIMENS  OF 

XIII.  HEAVEN  AN  ECHO  OF  EARTH. 

'T  is  but  a  shadow  of  the  earth's  familiar  bliss, 
Bright  mirrored  on  the  sky's  ethereal  fonts, 
That  fills  our  breasts  with  longings  nothing  can  dismiss. 
In  tremulous  and  glimmering  response. 

XIV.     THE    DOUBLE    RUBY. 

A  dbuble  ruby  is  my  fascinating  ruin ; 

Long  time  ago  their  fatal  charm  my  bosom  flew  in. 

Whate'er  resisting  reason  says,  quite  vanquished  mine 

is : 
One  ruby  is  thy  luring  mouth,  the  other  wine  is. 

XV.     IT    WAS    BRED    IN    THE    BONE. 

My  drunkenness  is  not  a  fault  of  mine  ; 
For  drunken  came  I  from  the  hand  Divine, 
Which  kneaded  up  my  nascent  clay  with  wine. 
Therefore,  when,  dry  and  hard,  I  fainting  pine, 
No  moisture  suits  me  like  the  yeasty  vine ! 

A    ZOROASTRIAN   MYTH.     R. 

Stir  in  thy  breast,  O  son !  Devotion's  fire  about. 
And  leave  no  room  therein  for  all-pernicious  Doubt. 

'By  Doubt  alone  was  evil  on  the  world  impelled ; 
And  goodness  by  Devotion  only  is  upheld. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  151 

The  Parsee  myth  this  truth  as  follows  has  made  known. 
Ere  earth  and  heaven  were,  was  Zeruan  alone. 

A  thousand  years,  in  full  Devotion  sunk,  he  sought 
To   get   a   son   by  whom   the  world   should  then   be 
'wrought. 

The  thousand  years  of  pure  Devotion  now  he  ends : 
Upon  the  instant,  in  his  mind  fell  Doubt  ascends. 

He  doubting  says,  "  Shall  I  Devotion's  just  return 
Obtain,  or  for  a  son  for  ever  vainly  yearn  ?  " 

At  once  the  womb  of  Power  that  thought's  creative 

sperm 
Invades,  and  makes  it  pregnant  with  a  double  germ, 

Ormuzd  and  Ahriman  ;  Devotion's  dazzling  child, 
And  Doubt's  demoniac  son,  false,  filthy,  black,  and  wild. 

The  moment  they  were  bom,  creation  they  began : 
Ormuzd  all  good  things  made  ;  all  evil,  Ahriman. 

While   that   one    wrought.    Devotion's    fire   supplying 

played : 
Doubt  gave  the  stuff  of  which  the   other  each  thing 

made. 


152  SPECIMENS  OF 

While  Ahriman  his  poisonous  plans  in  matter  wrote, 
Ormuzd  still  fanned  Devotion's  fire  as  antidote. 

In  opposition  still  these  two  the  world  create, 

And  bad  are  those  who  love  the  one  that  good  men  hate. 

Hold  thou  by  pure  Ormuzd,  Devotion's  fire  to  feel ; 
And  let  no  cause  of  Doubt  prevail  to  quench  thy  zeal. 

When  Doubt  has  in  Devotion's  flame  expiring  gleamed, 
Then  thou  art  wholly  good,  and  hast  the  world  redeemed. 


OXLY    CIRCLES    ARE    ENDLESS. 

All  immortalities  are  circular  in  form : 
The  transmigration  of  the  soul  is  truth  divine. 
If  endless  linear  progress  were  each  being's  norm, 
The  whole  creation  would  at  last  become  a  line. 


TRUE  friendship:  from  dschamy. 

Sheik  Schubli,  taken  sick,  was  borne  one  day 

Unto  the  hospital.     A  host  the  way 

Behind  him  thronged.    "  Who  are  you  ?  "  Schubli  cried. 

"  We  are  your  friends,"  the  multitude  replied. 

Sheik  Schubli  threw  a  stone  at  them  :  they  fled. 

"  Come  back,  ye  false  pretenders !  '*  then  he  said  ; 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  153 

"  A  friend  is  one  who,  ranked  among  his  foes 
By  him  he  loves,  and  stoned,  and  beat  with  blows, 
Will  still  remain  as  friendly  as  before, 
And  to  his  friendship  only  add  the  more." 

A  THOUGHT  FROM  HASSAN  BAR  SABAH. 

Life  is  a  violent  storm,  in  which  thrust, 
Man  is  at  best  but  a  handful  of  dust. 

THE    PROMOTION    OF   DISDAIN. 

The  Prophet  said,  as  his  disciples  tell, 
"  Disdain  is  made  the  treasurer  of  hell." 

THE  CALL  TO  EVENING  PRAYER. 

One  silver  crescent  in  the  twilight  sky  is  hanging, 
Another  tips  the  solemn  dome  of  yonder  mosque. 
And  now  the  Muezzin's  call  is  heard,  sonorous  clanging 
Through  thronged  bazaar,  concealed  hareem,  and  cool 

kiosk : 
"  In  the  Prophet's  name,  God  is  God,  and  there  is  no 

other." 
On  roofs,  in  streets,  alone,  or  close  beside  his  brother. 
Each  Moslem  kneels,  his  forehead  turned  towards  Mec- 
ca's shrine, 
And  all  the  world  forgotten  in  one  thought  divine. 


154  SPECIMENS    OF 

SAADI    ON   ARBORICULTURE. 

Though  the  water  of  life  from  the  clouds  fell  in  billows, 
And  the  ground  were  strewn  over  with  Paradise'  loam, 
Yet  in  vain  would  you  seek  from  a  garden  of  willows 
To  collect  any  fruit  as  beneath  them  you  roam. 


EARTH   AN    ILLUSION. 

From  the  mists  of  the  Ocean  of  Truth  in  the  skies, 
A  Mirage  in  deluding  reflections  doth  rise. 
There  is  naught  but  reality  there  to  be  seen ; 
We  have  here  but  the  lie  of  its  vapory  sheen. 

GAYATRI  :    THE  VEDAS'    HOLIEST    VERSE. 

Let  us  in  silent  adoration  yearn 

After  the  Godhead  —  True  Sun  —  evermore  ; 

Who  all  illumines,  who  creates  all  o'er, 

From  whom  all  come,  to  whom  all  must  return. 

Whom  we  invoke  to  guide  our  minds  and  feet 

In  our  slow  progress  towards  his  holy  seat. 

THE    beggar's    mirror.      R. 

A  beggar  of  Shiraz  once  had  a  looking-glass 
That  by  this  magic  power  all  others  did  surpass,  — 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  155 

Which  many  daraes  would  wish  their  mirrors  too  could 

share,  — 
To  show  an  ugly  face  as  if  it  were  most  fair  ! 

The  beggar  held  this  glass  in  front  of  every  one 
From  whom  he  begged ;  and  copious  guerdons  thus  he 
won. 

For  each  with  gladness  gave  who  saw  himself  so  fair : 
The  gay  young  lord,  the  foul  old  hag,  both   looking 
there. 

At  last  the  beggar,  lying  sick,  gave  to  his  son 

The  glass,  and  said,  "  Make  use  of  it  as  I  have  done." 

But  with  the  glass  at  night  all  empty  came  he  back : 
For  he  had  made  a  different  use  of  it,  alack ! 

He  held  not  up  the  glass  before  each  passing  wight. 
But  saw  his  own  face  there,  and  lingered  on  the  sight. 

The  father  said :  "  The  foolish  fruit  of  idle  pride, 
My  son,  no  human  heart  has  ever  satisfied. 

Who  shows  the  world  in  Flattery's  glass,  is  one  shrewd 

elf; 
He  is  a  fool  who  looks  therein  to  see  himself." 


156  SPECIMENS    OF 

THE    DWARF    AVATfR. 

The  wicked  giant,  Bali,  had  obtained 
Supreme  control  from  heaven  down  to  hell ; 
He  all  the  humbler  deities  had  chained ; 
Like  rain  his  cruelties  unmeasured  fell. 

The  highest  gods  in  fear  a  session  called, 
And  argued  vengeful  plans  for  many  an  hour : 
From  far  below  he  upward  looked,  and  bawled 
An  arrogant  defiance  to  their  power. 

At  length  divinest  Vishnu  forward  stepped. 
While  round  the  senate  mighty  plaudits  ran. 
And  vowed  himself —  his  consort  Lakshmi  wept  — 
The  foe  to  disenthrone,  and  ransom  man. 

The  heavenly  synod  praised  him,  though  they  feared 
His  failure  through  some  one  of  million  harms. 
On  earth,  a  puny  man,  he  soon  appeared, 
And,  as  a  beggar,  asked  of  Bali  alms. 

"  What  wouldst  thou  have  ?  "  the  horrid  despot  said. 
And  gave  the  shrinking  dwarf  a  scornful  glance. 
O  fool !  premonished  by  no  mystic  dread. 
And  reading  naught  beneath  that  countenance  ! 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  167 

The  little,  timid  mendicant  replies, 
"  Give  me  so  much  of  thy  dominion's  space  — 
The  boon  is  small,  but  will  for  me  suffice  — 
As  I  can  onlj  by  three  steppings  pace." 

The  blinded  Bali,  mocking,  gave  assent, 
And  looked  upon  him  with  contemptuous  eye. 
Swift  grew  the  dwarf  through  such  immense  extent, 
That  one  step  spanned  the  earth,  one  more,  the  sky ! 

Then  looking  round,  with  haughty  voice  he  said, 
«  The  third  where  shall  I  take  ?     O  Bali,  tell ! " 
At  Vishnu's  feet  the  tyrant  placed  his  head, 
And  instantaneously  was  thrust  to  hell. 

THE  mystic's  rapture:   from  mahmoud. 

Mine  ego  hid  the  sun,  as  would  a  mountain  tall ; 
One  ray  of  light  quick  smote  the  mass  to  atoms  small, 
And  through  the  mountain  shape  of  dust  full  streamed 

the  light 
Of  thousand  suns,  all  shining  supersensually  bright. 
Within  a  drop  of  dew  was  chained,  by  magic  guile. 
The  banished,  vast  Euphrates,  as  a  poor  exile. 
The  earth  before  me  lay,  a  heap  of  dusky  clods. 
One  draught  this  beggar  drank  of  the  pure  wine  of 

God's, 


158  SPECIMENS    OP 

And  grew  a  Shah.     Each  mote  a  Caucasus  became. 
The  black  veil  rose  from  round  each  atom's  core  of 

flame, 
The  welkin  roof  was  rent,  and  Deity  I  saw 
Sole  brooding  o'er  a  world  of  shoreless  light  and  awe. 

WHY    SIVA's    neck   IS    BLUE. 

When  once  of  old  the  demons  churned  the  thickening 

ocean. 
To  baffle  the  design  the  gods  their  wits  employed. 
There  soon  resulted,  fruitage  of  the  sickening  motion, 
A  poisonous  drug  whose  fumes  all  neighboring  life  de- 
stroyed. 
But  Brahma,  joining  Vishnu,  sought  with  deep  devotion 
To  turn  from  men  the  plot  of  that  demonic  crew : 
To  Siva  spake  they ;  quick  he  gulped  the  infernal  po- 
tion! 
And  that  is  wha*  has  made  his  fearful  throat  so  blue. 

A  wine-drinker's  metaphors. 

As  the  nightingale  oft  from  a  rose's  dew  sips, 
So  I  wet  with  fresh  wine  my  belanguishing  lips. 

As  the  soul  of  perfume  through  a  flower's  petals  slips, 
So  pure  wine  passes  through  the  rose-door  of  my  lips. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  159 

As  to  port  from  afar  float  the  full-loaded  ships, 
So  this  wine-beaker  drifts  to  the  strand  of  my  lips. 

As  the  white-driven  sea  o'er  a  cliff's  edges  drips, 
So  the  red-tinted  wine  breaks  in  foam  on  my  lips. 

SUBJECTIVITY    OF    TIME    AND    SPACE. 

Where  is  Space  ?    In  the  eye.     Where  is  Time  ?    In 

the  ear. 
Light  bringeth  that  one  there,  Sound  bringeth  this  one 

here. 
Close  eye  and  ear,  and  you  are  out  of  Space  and  Time, 
In  contemplation,  rapture,  prayer,  and  dream  sublime. 
You  build  the  world  according  to  your  pleasure  all : 
It  rests  on  Time  and  Space :  through  you  these  stand 

and  fall. 

THE  FRAGRANT  PIECE  OF  EARTH:  FROM  SAADI. 

A  fragrant  piece  of  earth  salutes 
Each  passenger,  and  perfume  shoots, 
Uiilike  the  common  earth  or  sod, 
Around  through  all  the  air  abroad. 
A  pilgrim  near  it  once  did  rest, 
And  took  it  up,  and  thus  addressed : 
"  Art  thou  a  lump  of  musk  ?  or  art 
A  ball  of  spice,  this  smell  t'  impart 


160  SPECIMENS    OF 

To  all  who  chance  to  travel  by 

The  spot  where  thou,  like  earth,  dost  lie  ? 

Humbly  the  clod  replied :  "  I  must 

Confess  that  I  am  only  dust. 

But  once  a  rose  within  me  grew : 

Its  rootlets  shot,  its  flowerets  blew, 

And  all  the  rose's  sweetness  rolled 

Throughout  the  texture  of  my  mould ; 

And  so  it  is  that  I  impart 

Perfume  to  thee,  whoe'er  thou  art ! " 

THE    SPREADING    SPECK:    FROM   MOTANEBBI. 

On  every  human  soul  there  lies 

A  httle  dusky  speck  of  sin. 

As  small  as  a  mote's  eye  in  size  : 

But  when  that  speck  doth  once  begin 

To  work,  it  swift  and  swift  extends, 

Till  the  whole  soul  it  comprehends. 

And  all  its  powers  overclouds 

"With  condemnation's  thunder-shrouds. 

Then  fierce  and  far  the  fear-fires  flash, 

And  dire  and  dread  the  doom-bolts  dash. 

Thus  doth  the  sin-speck  spread,  in  sight, 

O'er  all  the  soul  a  baleful  night,  — 

A  blotting  night  of  horror  deep. 

That  knows  no  dawn  and  knows  no  sleep  ! 


OKIENTAL    POETRY.  161 

A   MORAL    ATMOSPHERE. 

It  is  as  hard  for  one  whom  sinners  still  prevent 

From  prayer,  to  keep  his  virtue,  yet  with  them  to  dwell, 

As  it  would  be  for  a  lotus  of  sweetest  scent 

To  blossom  forth  in  beauty  'midst  the  flames  of  hell. 

POWER  BOUGHT  BY  PENANCE.  R. 

So  great  Havana's  penances  and  rites  austere 
Were,  that  the  gods,  beholding  them,  were  filled  with 
fear. 

The  worlds  he  had  subdued,  with  all  who  in  them  dwell. 
And  was  obeyed  from  Indra's  heaven  to  Bali's  hell. 

Dread  Brahma  at  his  court  rehearsed  the  Veda  books  ; 
The  Sun  came  down  as  overseer  of  his  cooks. 

To  bear  his  goblets.  Clouds  did  leave  their  realm  of  rain, 
And  the  swift  Wind  was  his  obsequious  chamberlain. 

WINE  SONG    OF    KAITMAS. 

Fill  up  the  goblet,  and  reach  to  me  some  ! 
Drinking  makes  wise,  but  dry  fasting  makes  glum. 

What  is  thy  breath  but  a  quaffing  of  air  ? 
Smell  is  but  drinking  of  fragrances  rare. 


162  SPECIMENS    OF 

What  is  a  kiss  but  a  draught  double  quick  ? 
Drinking  makes  blessed,  but  fasting  makes  sick. 

Seeing  is  only  a  drinking  of  light : 

Drinketh  the  ear  from  all  sounds,  day  and  night. 

Fill,  then,  the  goblet,  and  reach  to  me  some ! 
Drinking  makes  wise,  but  dry  fasting  makes  glum. 

A  TONE  FROM  HAFIZ'  LYRE. 

Now  is  the  blossoming-time  of  the  roses. 
Maiden,  bring  wine  !  never  wait  for  the  morrow. 
Over  us  joyfully  smiles  the  soft  blueness  ; 
Quick  let  us,  round  the  dark  field  of  old  sorrow, 
Tread  the  bright  path  of  to-day  in  its  newness, 
Pluckifig  at  once  the  fresh  garlands  of  roses. 

THE  SELF-LADEN  CARRIER. 

In  love  there  is  no  message  interwrought : 
It  was  itself  which  its  own  meaning  brought. 

THE    REVEALING    TRIAL. 

Is  there  not  a  sure  test  the  deep  truth  of  each  man  to 

divine, 
When  the  cow  may  be  brought  to  the  banks  of  the  brook 

of  red  wine  ? 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  163 

THE    ZEST    OF    THE   PRIZE. 

Against  Life's  firm  and  many-peopled  land 
While  Passion's  tide  doth  make  the  pebbles  rattle, 
With  Glory's  pearls  it  overstrews  the  strand, 
And  wakes  afresh  Ambition's  mighty  battle. 

FOLLY   FOR    ONE's    SELF.     H. 

He  who  is  only  for  his  neighbors  wise. 
While  his  own  soul  in  sad  confusion  lies, 
Is  like  those  men  who  builded  Noah's  ark, 
But  sank,  themselves,  beneath  the  waters  dark. 

THE   PAUSE    OF   PRUDENCE.     H. 

Be  not  in  haste  the  frail  arrow  to  shoot. 
For  it  can  ne'er  be  returned  thee  again : 
When  one  has  killed  the  good  tree  for  its  fruit, 
He  may  lament  it  for  ever  in  vain. 

THE    ROAD    TO    KNOWLEDGE.    H. 

How  hast  thou  so  profound  a  lore  attained  ? 
To  ask  another,  I  was  ne'er  ashamed ! 

WISDOM   FOR    OTHERS. 

Like  a  blind  man,  who  bears  a  torch  to  light 
The  way  for  other  men,  but  goes  in  night 


164'  SPECIMENS    OF 

Himself,  is  he  who  for  his  friends  has  sight, 
But  none  his  own  dim  steps  to  guide  aright. 

IDLE    THOUGHT.      H. 

Wisdom  without  action  is  Hke  a  bee  without  honey,  that 

sings : 
Ask  his  vain  haughtiness  why  he  thus  idly  roves  about, 

and  stings ! 

UNDISHEARTENED    ASPIRATION.     H. 

From  torch  reversed  the  flame  still  streameth,  rising 

straight : 
So  struggleth  up  the  brave  man  stricken  down  by  fate. 

THE    TRAGIC    CHANGE. 

My  hair  was  black,  but  white  my  life : 
The  colors  in  exchange  are  cast ! 
The  white  upon  my  hair  is  rife, 
The  black  upon  my  life  has  passed. 

THE    IMPOSSIBILITY. 

When  I  have  seen,  though  clad  in  gold  or  silk. 
In  peace  and  joy  a  wicked  man  or  maid, 
I  then  have  drunk  a  bowl  of  pigeon's  milk, 
And  ate  the  yellow  eggs  the  oxen  laid ! 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  165 


THE    PATRON.     H. 


When  the  tree  with  ripened  fruit  is  loaded, 
Towards  the  hungry  all  its  rich  boughs  stoop  ; 
They  who  had  a  famine  once  foreboded 
Only  have  to  pluck  them  as  they  droop. 
Likewise  when  the  good  man  's  clothed  with  power, 
Gladly  generous  is  he  with  his  aid ; 
All  the  needy  gather  from  his  dower. 
And  rejoice  to  rest  them  in  his  shade. 


ALL    IS    EACH,    AND    EACH  IS    ALL, 

The  sullen  mountain,  and  the  bee  that  hums, 
A  flying  joy,  about  its  flowery  base, 
Each  from  the  same  immediate  fountain  comes, 
And  both  compose  one  evanescent  race. 

Proud  man,  exulting  in  his  strength  and  thought, 
The  torpid  clod  he  treads  beneath  his  way. 
One  parent  Artist's  skill  alike  hath  wrought. 
And  they  are  brothers  in  their  fate  to-day. 

There  is  no  difference  in  the  texture  fine 
That 's  woven  through  organic  rock  and  grass. 
And  that  which  thrills  man's  heart  in  every  line, 
As  o'er  its  web  God's  weaving  fingers  pass. 


166  SPECIMENS    OF 

The  timid  flower  that  decks  the  fragrant  field, 
The  daring  star  that  tints  the  solemn  dome, 
From  one  propulsive  force  to  being  reeled  ; 
Both  keep  one  law  and  have  a  single  home. 

The  river  and  the  leaf,  the  sun  and  shade. 
The  bird  and  stone,  the  shepherds  and  their  flocks, 
Are  all  of  one  primeval  substance  made,  — 
*A  single  key  their  common  secret  locks. 

Each  atom  holds  the  boundless  God  concrete 
Besides  whose  abstract  Being  nothing  is ; 
Each  mind,  each  point  of  dust,  is  God  complete ;  — 
Who  knows  but  this,  the  magic  key  is  his  ! 

The  curdling  horrors,  doubts,  of  fear  and  woe 
Dissolve  and  flee  before  his  solving  gaze  ; 
Absorbing  light  sets  death's  abyss  aglow, 
Fills  evil's  night  an  all-explaining  blaze. 

Between  heaven's  bright  domains  and  blackest  hell's 
The  separating  limits  swiftly  fall ; 
A  dazzling  flood  of  glory  streams,  and  swells, 
And  interfuses  absolutely  all. 

RETIREMENT   FROM    GOSSIP. 

Absorbing  thought  to  worldly  company  is  rude. 
And  every  mighty  passion  courteth  solitude. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  167 

SCHERIF    ETiH-THALIK's    WINE-ORB. 

The  sun  of  wine  sank  in  thy  mouth,  where  still  its  glory 

reeks, 
And    left    the    flushes   of  its    evening-red    upon    thy 

cheeks. 

TO    DIE    IS    GAIN. 

We  then  shall  see  no  more,  before  the  veil  all  dimly 

blurred. 
But  for  imagined  shall  have  grasped,  embraced  for  only 

heard. 

THE    SOBER   DRUNKENNESS. 

Beware  the  deadly  fumes  of  that  insane  elation 
Which  rises  from  the  cup  of  mad  impiety  ; 
And  go,  get  drunk  with  that  divine  intoxication 

Which  is  more  sober  far  than  all  sobriety. 

» 

THE    CREATION    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Creative  thought  and  passion  in  a  cup 

The  meditating  Brahm  once  hurled  ; 

And  when  the  seething  foam  had  all  dried  up, 

The  sediment  was  this  bright  world. 


168  SPECIMENS    OP 


NINE    FRAGMENTS    FROM    THE    PREM    SAGAR. 

How  pitying   Vishnu   came   from   heaven,   and   as   a 

peasant-boy, 
At  Braj,  by  pranks  filled  all  the  cowherd  lads  and  girls 

with  joy, 
The  wondrous  things  he  said  and  did  while  mortal  men 

among,  — 
All  this  has  saintly  Shukadev  in  the  Prem  Sagar  sung. 

I.  THE  MASKED  DEITY  BETRAYED. 

Before  his  parents'  hut  at  play, 

The  little  Krishna  Chand  one  day 

Swallowed  some  dirt.     With  eager  speed 

His  brothers  ran  and  told  the  deed. 

Seizing  a  switch,  his  mother  rushed 

To  punish  him.     He  shrank,  and  blushed, 

But  firmly  did  the  charge  deny. 

She  said,  "  Krishna,  tell  not  a  lie  ; 

Open  your  mouth,  and  let  me  see ! " 

His  mouth  he  opened  instantly. 

She  looked,  —  and  there  the  Three  Worlds  saw. 

Prostrate  she  fell  in  deepest  awe. 

And  cried,  "  Thee  I  no  longer  call 

My  son,  but  own  as  Lord  of  all." 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  169 


II.     THE    PERILOUS    BOON. 


Bikasur  had  of  penances  fulfilled  his  task, 

And  promise  won  of  any  boon  that  he  might  ask. 

"  Grant,  Siva,  that  on  whom  I  place  my  hand, 

He  may  become  a  heap  of  ashes  on  the  land." 

The  boon  is  granted.     Lo !  at  once  Bikasur  strives 

To  place  his  hand  on  Siva's  head,  whom  terror  drives 

To  fly,  as  close  the  steps  of  his  pursuer  press. 

Then  Hari,  Nand's  blue  son,  saw  Siva's  deep  distress, 

And  went  before  Bikasur,  and  demanded  why 

He  thus  was  chasing  Siva  round  the  earth  and  sky. 

And  then  he   said,  —  when  he   the  whole   truth   had 

received,  — 
"  Bikasur !  by  some  goblin  you  have  been  deceived. 
The  mighty  boon  is  all  a  cheat,  a  vanity : 
Just  put  your  hand  upon  your  own  head,  and  then  see  ! " 
Bikasur,  made  by  Maia's  power  both  blind  and  drunk, 
The  test  applied,  and  to  a  heap  of  ashes  sunk  ! 
Rejoicing  music  floated  from  the  heavenly  bowers, 
And  all  the  gods   applauded   loud,  and   rained    down 

flowers. 

III.  FOREORDAINED  MEANS  AND  ENDS. 

Whate'er  man's  destiny  may  be. 
His  mind  is  changed  accordingly : 
With  it  his  heart  in  union  blends. 
And  thus  come  God's  appointed  ends. 


170  SPECIMENS    OF 

IV.      THE    libertine's    DOOM. 

Whoe'er  the  chastity  of  maid 
Doth  ruin  while  living  on  the  earth, 
He  shall  in  Fate's  black  noose  be  laid, 
And  drop  to  hell  from  birth  to  birth. 

V.    Krishna's  cowherdess  weeping. 

Her  head  in  bitter  woe  to  earth  depended, 
As  she  wildly  tore  her  long  curls ; 
And  from  her  eyes  a  stream  of  tears  descended 
Like  a  broken  necklace  of  pearls. 

VI.    king  pariksheet's  prater. 

From  this  shoreless  sea  of  cares, 
From  this  world's  illusions  vain, 
Where  my  heart  each  conflict  shares, 
And  I  groan  in  being's  chain, 
Vishnu !  kindest  god  of  all. 
Where  the  timeless  aeons  roll. 
Hear  me,  while  to  thee  I  call, 
And  emancipate  my  soul. 

VII.   akrur's  prayer. 

0  Krishna  Chand !  from  whom  all  objects  rise. 
Belong  they  to  the  darkness  or  the  light. 
The  opening  and  the  closing  of  thine  eyes 


ORIENTAL    rOETKY.  171 

Are  the  immediate  cause  of  day  and  night. 

Thou  art  the  gloom  that  broods,  the  fire  that  burns ; 

My  thoughts  I  fix  upon  thy  footprints  now ; 

To  thee  my  heart  through  all  things  ceaseless  yearns : 

Most  gracious  Lord  !  protect  me  ever  thou. 

VIII.     PATEKKAL  AUTHORITY. 

When  King  Jajati  had  waxed  old, 
He  asked  each  son,  Shayone,  Yalage, 
"  Give  me  thy  youth  of  joy  untold, 
And  take  instead  my  mournful  age  !  '* 
Yalage  replied,  "  Not  I  in  truth  !  " 
Then  King  Jajati  cursed  him  sore. 
But  quick  the  younger  said,  "  My  youth 
Take  thou,  let  me  be  old  and  hoar." 
And  King  Jajati  blessed  Shayone, 
And  left  to  him  the  royal  throne. 

IX.      THE    LIFE-PRESERVER. 

To  those  who  on  the  world-stream  drowning  float, 
The  name  of  Krishna  is  a  saving  boat. 

THE    idolater's    PATH. 

Unto  an  idol's  shrine  the  luring  roads  that  lead 
Are  made  of  sighs  and  tears  which  his  poor  votaries 
bleed. 


172  SPECIMENS    OF 

THE    SUN   AND    THE    POET's    EYE.     K. 

Art  thou,   O   Sun !  a  fount  from  which   all   splendor 

rushes,  — 
A  fount  from  which  the  life  of  the  creation  gushes  ? 

Art  thou  a  golden  shield,  on  heaven's  blue  peak  uphung, 
Whose  radiance,  fresh  and  unobscured,  abroad  is  flung  ? 

Art  thou  a  hero  stout,  thy  beams  the  shafts  he  shoots  ? 
"Where  is  the  quiver  which  to  hold  such  weapons  suits  ? 

Art  thou  an  eye  whose  piercing  glance  all  space  sur- 
veys, — 
Which  grows  not  dim,  but  is  refreshed  by  its  own  gaze  ? 

Thou  art  an  eye,  O  Sun !  an  eye  like  this  of  mine, 
Excepting  that  no  bound  includes  the  scope  of  thine. 

Thou  mak*st  the  earth  turn  round  as  on  its  course  it 

rides : 
Such  is  thy  love  thou  wilt  behold  it  on  all  sides. 

My  httle  eye,  to  thine  immense  one  when  opposed. 
At  once  begins  to  blink,  is  conquered  soon  and  closed. 

Let  all  who  now  look  up  to  trace  thy  path  of  flame, 
When  I  am  dead  turn  one  kind  glance  upon  my  name ! 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  173 

Thus  will  Foureed,  though  soon  must  darken  his  fond 

eyes, 
An  endless  fame  write  on  the  eyeball  of  the  skies.        • 

LESSON  OF  submission:  from  saadi. 

A  pilgrim,  bound  to  Mecca,  quite  away  his  sandals 
wore, 

And  on  the  desert's  blistering  sand  his  feet  grew  very- 
sore. 

"  To  let  me  suffer  thus,  great  Allah  is  not  kind  nor  just, 

While  in  his  service  I  confront  the  painful  heat  and 
dust," 

He  murmured  in  complaining  tone ;  and  in  this  temper 
came 

To  where,  around  the  Caaba,  pilgrims  knelt  of  every 
name : 

And  there  he  saw,  while  pity  and  remorse  his  bosom 
beat, 

A  pilgrim  who  not  only  wanted  shoes,  but  2Xs,ofeeU 

THE   TWO    WORLD-SCRIBES. 

Earth  is  a  parchment  whose  back 
Fate's  double  pencils  thus  write  :  — 
Life  writeth  white  upon  black, 
Death  writeth  black  upon  white. 


174  SPECIMENS  OP 

THE  TRUTH  OF  THEISM. 

Over  space  the  clear  banner  of  mind  is  unfurled, 
And  the  habits  of  God  are  the  laws  of  the  world. 

SAADI  moralizes  NATURE. 

The  wind  that  howls  around  the  world's  inclement  camp 
Cares  not  that  it  extinguishes  the  widow's  lamp. 

THE    TWIN    ANGfELS    OP    GOD. 

Once,  arm  in  arm,  the  angels  Love  and  Pity 
"Were  flying  forth  across  the  heavenly  cope ; 
"When,  as  they  left  God's  vast  and  blissful  city, 
They  saw  where  hell's  tormented  captives  grope. 
A  sympathizing  tear  fell  down  in  sorrow, 
A  gentle  smile  upon  the  darkness  fell. 
That  smile  spread  on  as  dawning  hope's  to-morrow, 
That  tear  extinguished  all  the  fire  of  hell. 
Then  rose  the  deep  abyss,  while  god  descended. 
And  turned  to  angels  fair  the  demon  race. 
Such  force  amazing  Pity's  tear  attended 
Along  with  light  from  Love's  celestial  face. 

VICE    NEUTRALIZING  VIRTUE. 

He  that  a  vice  from  year  to  year  inherits, 
"Wieldeth  an  axe  against  his  tree  of  merits. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  175 


SELF-EXCULPATION. 


Regard  no  vice  as  small,  that  thou  mayst  brook  it : 
No  virtue  small,  that  thou  mayst  overlook  it. 

THE    INTOLERABLE    SPLENDOR. 

So  long  the  light  of  God  burns  clear  and  bright 
As  our  eyes  bear  it ;  then  it  fades  from  sight. 

THE  Buddha's  victory. 

The  eyes  of  Wassy  wart  were  blots  of  blood, 

His  awful  sword  could  cleave  the  world  asunder; 

And,  like  the  vastest  mountain,  there  he  stood, 

His  hoarsened  voice  outroaring  >all  the  thunder. 

In  fiercest  rage  he  dared  the  Buddha  mild 

To  fight  him  then,  with  any  arms  he  chose. 

To  gaze  upon  his  bulk  and  gestures  wild, 

The  gods  came  forth,  and  all  the  planets  rose. 

To  be  a  shield  before  his  broadening  breast, 

He  wrenched  the  sun  from  out  the  socket-sky, 

And  fearfully  the  Buddha  mild  addressed, 

"  Behold  the  arm  by  which  thou  now  shalt  die." 

The  unarmed  Buddha  mildly  gazed  at  him, 

And  said,  in  peace,  "  Poor  fiend,  even  thee  I  love." 

Before  great  Wassywart  the  world  grew  dim ; 

His  bulk  enormous  faded  to  a  dove, 


176  SPECIMENS   OF 

That  hovered  where  the  hating  monster  loomed, 

And  jSlled  with  softest  notes  the  space 

Through  which  his  rage's  thund'rous  accents  boomed. 

Celestial  beauty  sat  on  Buddha's  face, 

While  sweetly  sang  the  metamorphosed  dove, 

"  Swords,  rocks,  lies,  fiends,  must  yield  to  moveless  love. 

And  nothing  can  withstand  the  Buddha's  grace." 

THE  LAST  REMEDY. 

The  fool,  to  hide  his  folly,  one  well-planned 
Prevention  has :  it  is  in  his  own  hand  ! 
Where  wise  men  talk,  or  when  they  walk  or  sup, 
Can  he  not  keep  his  foolish  mouth  shut  up  ? 

THE    FISHERMAN,    LOVE. 

Young  Love  as  a  fisherman  spreadeth  his  nets. 
And  woman's  sweet  lips  are  the  bait  that  he  sets : 
All  eagerly  bite,  the  men-fish  that  swim  by, 
And  then  in  the  flames  of  desire  they  must  fry. 

SOCIETY   MORE    THAN    PLACE. 

Better  where  awful  mountains  rise 
With  raging  tigers  dwell, 
Than  share  the  halls  of  Paradise 
With  men  who  merit  Hell. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  177 

TOO    LATE  :    FROM   A    HINDU    POET.     H. 

Hearken,  and  roll  not  round  so  wild 
Thine  eyes  decoying,  lovely  child ! 
The  joy  of  youth  was  long  since  o'er, 
And  what  we  were,  we  are  no  more. 
In  the  repentance-grove  we  've  sat, 
And  known  how  vain  was  this  and  that : 
And  since  that  time  we  name,  alas ! 
The  world  a  little  blade  of  grass. 

THE    CONTRAST. 

Like  shadows  in  the  early  morn 

Is  friendship  with  a  wicked  man  : 

Part  after  part  is  from  it  shorn. 

But  with  disinterested  friends  ^ 

It  grows,  like  shadows  in  the  eve, 

Until  the  sun  of  life  descends. 

THE    EAGLE. 

Against  the  sky's  blue  floor  his  proud  crest  rubs, 
The  distant  earth  his  spoiling  talon  wrings, 
His  eye  is  the  lair  of  the  lightning's  cubs. 
The  beaten  thunders  growl  beneath  his  wings ; 
His  vision  spills  the  ocean  as  a  drop. 
And  only  at  the  world-walls  doth  he  stop. 


178  SPECIMENS    OF 

THE    BIRD-KING. 

Dost  thou  the  monarch  eagle  seek  ? 
Thou  'It  find  him  in  the  tempest's  maw, 
Where  thunders  with  tornados  speak, 
And  forests  flj  as  though  of  straw  : 
Or  on  some  lightning-spUntered  peak, 
Sceptred  with  desolation's  law, 
The  shrubless  mountain  in  his  beak, 
The  barren  desert  in  his  claw: 


THE    VEILED    FACE    OF.  DAT. 

Through  the  forehead  of  eve  the  Lord  driveth  yon  star 

as  a  nail, 
And  the  thick-spangled  darkness  lets  down  o'er  the  day 

as  a  veiL 


THE    USE    OF    THE    MOON. 

The  moon  is  a  silver  pin-head  vast, 

That  holds  the  heaven's  tent-hangings  fast. 


NOT   FATE,    BUT    SKILL. 

Diving  and  finding  no  pearls  in  the  sea, 
Blame  not  the  ocean,  the  fault  is  in  thee ! 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  179 

THE    TEAR   AND    THE    LAMP. 

Weeping,  a  tear  put  out  my  lamp,  and  night's 
Deep  darkness  then  encompassed  me  alone. 
Ah  tears !  how  oft  ye  quench  the  feeble  lights 
That  faith  has  in  the  halls  of  sorrow  strewn ! 


A    GLIMPSE. 

The  sun  and  moon  together  in  the  evening  sheen 
Seeing,  while  painted  clouds  like  mists  of  incense  curled, 
I  said,  surely  such  beauty  has  never  been  seen 
Since  first  the  veils  covered  the  Harem  of  the  World. 


BROKEN    HEARTS. 

When  other  things  are  broken,  they  are  nothing  worth. 

Unless  it  be  to  some  old  Jew  or  some  repairer ; 

But  hearts,  the  more  they  're  bruised  and  broken  here 

on  earth, 
In  heaven  are  so  much  the  costlier  and  the  fairer. 

NOT    DRESS,    BUT    NATURE. 

If  mean  or  costly  dresses  through  this  globe 
Decide  the  rank  in  which  men  are  enrolled, 
Why,  then  we  '11  clothe  the  wolf  in  satin  robe, 
The  alligator  in  fine  silk  enfold  ! 


180  specimens  of 

beauty's  prerogative. 

Thy  beauty  pales  all  sublunary  things, 

And  man  to  vassalage  eternal  dooms : 

The  road  before  thee  should  be  swept  with  brooms 

Made  of  the  eyelashes  of  peerless  kings. 

SENSIBILITY. 

A  tear  doth  not  the  eye  unfeeling  swell : 
A  precious  pearl  lies  not  in  every  shell ! 

RAIN    BEATING    THE    EARTH. 

The  clouds  pour  on  the  fields  the  pelting  showers  and 

dew; 
The  earth  heeds  not  the  rain-drops'  pugilistic  crew, 
Until  her  bosom  from  their  blows  is  green  and  blue. 

THE    RESTLESSNESS    OF   MIND. 

Since  the  soul,  exiled  from  its  God,  a  haven  has  sought, 
It  has  found  no  anchorage  in  the  ocean  of  thought. 

THE    DIVINE    ROSE-TREE. 

God  holds  the  heavenly  rose-bush  in  his  hand. 
And  starry  roses  on  it  thickly  stand. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  181 


SALVATION   BY   MERCY. 


Once  staggering,  blind  with  folly,  on  the  brink  of  hell, 
Above  the  everlasting  fire-flood's  frightful  roar, 
God  threw  his  heart  before  my  feet,  and,  stumbling  o'er 
That  obstacle  divine,  I  into  heaven  fell. 


THE   MYSTERY    OF    GOD. 

Though  God  extends  beyond  creation's  rim, 
Each  smallest  atom  holds  the  whole  of  Him. 


A    CRINAL    CONCEIT. 

My  hair  is  black,  but  mixed  with  white ;    and  Fancy 

speaks. 
Saying,  Behold  a  host  of  Negroes  mixed  with  Greeks ! 

BESTIR    THEE    BETIMES. 

Oh !  be  thou  zealous  in  thy  youth  ; 
Fill  every  day  with  noble  toils, 
Fight  for  the  victories  of  Truth, 
And  deck  thee  with  her  deathless  spoils. 
For  those  whose  lives  are  in  retreat, 
Their  valor  and  ambition  flown. 
In  vain  the  'larum  drum  is  beat. 
In  vain  the  battle-trumpet  blown  ! 


182  SPECIMENS    OP 

THE   MYSTIC    PRAYER    OF    HAFIZ. 

Quickly  furnish  me  Solomon's   ring ; 

Alexander's  weird  glass  be  my  meed ; 

The  philosopher's  stone  to  me  bring ; 

Also  give  me  the  cup  of  Jemschid :  — 

In  one  word,  I  but  ask,  host  of  mine, 

That  thou  fetch  me  a  draught  of  thy  wine ! 

Bring  me  wine  !    I  would  wash  this  old  cowl 

From  the  stains  which  have  made  it  so  foul. 

Bring  me  wine  !    By  my  puissant  arm 

The  thick  net  of  deceit  and  of  harm, 

Which  the  priests  have  spread  over  the  world. 

Shall  be  rent  and  in  laughter  be  hurled. 

Bring  me  wine  !    I  the  earth  will  subdue. 

Bring  me  wine !    I  the  heaven  will  storm  through. 

Bring  me  wine,  bring  it  quick,  make  no  halt ! 

To  the  throne  of  both  worlds  I  will  vault. 

All  is  in  the  red  streamlet  divine. 

Bring  me  wine !  O  my  host,  bring  me  wine  ! 

THE    MILD  REBUKE.     H. 

A  blind  man,  fallen  in  the  night. 
Cried  for  some  one  to  bring  a  light. 
A  scoffer  jeered  from  folly's  camp : 
"  Thou  canst  not  even  see  the  lamp. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  183 

Much  less  discern  things  by  its  beams ; 
And  so  thy  cry  is  vain,  it  seems." 
The  bUnd  man  straightway  made  reply : 
"  To  you  it  seemeth  vain,  but  I 
Conclude  that,  if  a  torch  were  here, 
Its  blaze  making  the  whole  place  clear, 
The  first  good  man  that  happened  by 
Would  lead  me  where  my  way  doth  he." 

INEFFICIENT    RESTRAINT. 

The  band  of  thy  resolve  is  a  fine  hair  ; 
The  wolf  of  thy  desire  would  break  a  chain : 
One  day  this  ravening  wolf  that  band  will  tear, 
And  then  thy  bitter  cries  will  be  in  vain. 

THE    GREAT  LEVEL. 

It  is  a  monitory  truth,  I' ween, 
That,  turning  up  the  ashes  of  the  grave, 
One  can  discern  no  difference  between 
The  richest  sultan  and  the  poorest  slave. 

THE   PALM    OF   DESTINY. 

Fate  is  a  Hand.     It  lays  two  fingers  on  the  eyes. 
Two  on  the  ears,  one  on  the  mouth,  and  silent  cries, 
"  Be  ever  still !  "  Then  down  in  endless  sleep  man  lies. 


184  SPECIMENS    OP 

THE    DISARMED    TERROR. 

After  one  completely  draws 
All  the  lion's  teeth  and  claws, 
Who  would  fear  his  helpless  paws, 
Or  his  boneless,  mumbhng  jaws  ? 

HAFIZ    ON    HIS    DEATH. 

Think  not  I  am  unhappy  when  my  coffin  passes  by. 
And  when  you  gaze  upon  my  corse,  sigh  not,  in  tears, 

Alas ! 
When  you  fall  into  sin,  then  indeed  you  Alas !  may  cry. 
And  when  my  body  sleeps  in  dust  beneath  the  flowering 

grass. 
Talk  not  of  separating  absence,  for  the  earth  that  covers 
My  clay  will  be  but  a  veil  hiding  the  secrets  of  lovers. 

ENJOYMENT  VERSUS  IMPROVEMENT. 

One  said,  "  Better  a  single  drop  of  pleasure. 
Than  to  possess  a  hogshead  full  of  wisdom."  » 
Such  thought  it  fitteth  a  hog's  head  to  treasure. 
In  filthy  dregs  of  sense  appointing  his  doom ; 
But,  sooth,  one  drop  of  wisdom  is  far  better 
Than  pleasure  in  whole  bottomless  abysses : 
For  sense's  fool  must  wear  remorse's  fetter 
When  duty's  servant  reigns  where  endless  bliss  is. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.        .  185 

THE    TRIPLE    MURDER. 

These  three  men  all  at  once  to  death  the  slander-poison 

burns : 
The  one  who  speaks,  the  one  who  hears,  the  one  whom 

it  concerns. 

THE  ROASTED  HEN:  AN  ARAB  TALE.  R. 

A  man  once  sat  with  his  good  wife  to  eat 
A  hen,  of  which  she  was  for  him  the  roaster. 
A  beggar  cried,  "  Some  food  I  do  entreat !  " 
But  drove  him  off  the  satiated  boaster. 

He  thought  not  of  the  old  proverbial  verse, 
"  The  full  should  call  the  empty  to  their  table." 
Soon  through  his  house  came  hunger  as  a  curse, 
To  get  a  single  hen  he  was  not  able. 

From  direst  poverty  he  left  his  wife. 

And  homeless  roamed  abroad  without  a  brother ; 

But  she,  in  order  to  preserve  her  life, 

In  marriage  gave  herself  unto  another. 

Again  she  with  her  husband  sat  to  eat 

A  hen,  which  she  for  him  had  been  a  roasting. 

A  beggar  cried,  "  I  some  of  it  entreat ! " 

"  Give  him  the  hen ! "  said  he,  too  meek  for  boasting. 


186  SPECIMENS    OF 

As  to  the  beggar  with  the  food  she  came, 
Behold !  't  was  he  to  whom  she  first  was  married. 
She  turned,  in  tears,  with  thoughts  that  have  no  name : 
Her  spouse  in  wonder  asked  why  thus  she  tarried. 

She  told  him  then,  in  full  and  frank  reply. 
All  since  the  first  beggar  away  was  driven. 
He  cried :  "  Ah  God !  that  first  beggar  was  I,  — 
Praised  be  the  mercy  of  all-pitying  Heaven ! 

"  There  is  a  law  which  orders  Fortune's  play, 
And  moves  the  rich  and  poor  upon  its  lever : 
I  begged  of  him  who  begs  of  me  to-day,  — 
May  God  have  mercy  on  us  both  for  ever ! " 

THE    SINGLE    FRIEND. 

Against  that  fool  must  all  true  thinkers  laugh. 

Who,  counting  o'er  his  friends,  thinks  most  of  number. 

It  is  as  if  who  wants  a  single  staff 

Should  with  a  bunch  of  reeds  his  hand  encumber. 

THE    FAITHFUL    FRIEND. 

The  true  friend  is  not  he  who  holds  up  Flattery's  mirror, 
In  which  the  face  to  thy  conceit  most  pleasing  hovers ; 
But  he  who  kindly  shows  thee  all  thy  vices.  Sirrah ! 
And  helps  thee  mend  them  ere  an  enemy  discovers. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  187: 

THE    sultan's    lesson. 

An  aged  Sultan  placed  before  his  throne  one  day 
Three  urns :  one  golden  was,  one  amber,  and  one  clay. 
When  with  his  royal  seal  the  slaves  had  sealed  each  urn, 
He  ordered  his  three  sons  to  take  their  choice  in  turn. 

Upon  the  golden  vase  the  word  Empire  was  writ ; 
The  haughty  word  resplendent  groups  of  jewels  stud. 
The  eldest  grasped  the  golden  urn,  and  opened  it,  — 
But  shrank  in  horror  back  to  find  it  filled  with  blood ! 

The  word  Glory  upon  the  amber  vase  shone  bright ; 
The  luring  word  fresh  wreaths  of  laurels  cluster  o'er. 
The  second  chose  the  amber  urn,  —  pathetic  sight ! 
*T  was  filled  with  dust  of  men  once  famed,  now  known 
no  more. 

No  word  inscribed  upon  its  front  the  clay  vase  bore, 
And  yet  for  this  the  youngest  prince  his  choice  had 

saved. 
He  oped  the  urn  of  clay  his  father's  feet  before,  — 
And  lo!  'twas  empty,  but  God's  name  was  there  en- 
graved. 

The  Sultan  to  the  wondering  throng  of  courtiers  turned, 
And  asked  them  which  of  all  those  vases  weighed  the 
most? 


188  SPECIMENS    OF 

Far   different    thoughts   within   their   various   bosoms 

burned : — 
Into  a  threefold  party  broke  the  courtier  host. 

The  warriors  said,  "  The  golden  vase,  symbol  of  power." 
The  poets  said,  "  The  amber  vase,  emblem  of  fame." 
The  sages  said, "  The. clayey  vase,  God's  name  its  dower  ; 
The  globe  is  lighter  than  one  letter  of  that  name." 

Then  said  the  Sultan  to  his  sons  :  "  Remember  well 
The  meaning  of  this  scene,  the  lesson  of  this  day. 
"W^en  your  lives'  dust  is  balanced  over  heaven  and  hell, 
Ah !  think,  will  its  renown  the  name  of  God  outweigh  ?  " 

ELBOW-ROOM. 

Ten  poor  men  sleep  in  peace  on  one  straw  heap,  as 

Saadi  sings, 
But  the  immensest  empire  is  too  narrow  for  two  kings. 

FORTUNE    AND    WORTH.     H. 

That  haughty  rich  man  see,  a  merely  gilded  clod ; 

This  poor  man  see,  pure  gold  with  common  dust  be- 
smeared. 

Start  not ;  in  needy  garb  was  Moses  girt  and  shod. 

When  waved  and  shone  before  him  Pharaoh's  golden 
beard ! 


oriental  poetry.  189 

charity's  eye:  from  nisami. 

One  evening  Jesus  lingered  in  the  market-place, 
Teaching  the  people  parables  of  truth  and  grace, 
When  in  the  square  remote  a  crowd  was  seen  to  rise, 
And  stop,  with  loathing  gestures  and  abhorring  cries. 

The  Master  and  his  meek  disciples  went  to  see 
What  cause  for  this  commotion  and  disgust  could  be, 
And  found  a  poor  dead  dog  beside  the  gutter  laid ; 
Revolting  sight !  at  which  each  face  its  hate  betrayed. 

One  held  his  nose,  one  shut  his  eyes,  one  turned  away  ; 
And  all  among  themselves  began  aloud  to  say, 
"  Detested  creature  !  he  pollutes  the  earth  and  air  ! " 
"  His  eyes  are  blear ! "  "  His  ears  are  foul ! "  "  His  ribs 
are  bare ! " 

"  In  his  torn  hide  there 's  not  a  decent  shoe-string  left ! " 
"  No  doubt  the  execrable  cur  was  hung  for  theft ! " 
Then  Jesus  spake,  and  dropped  on  him   this    saving 

wreath,  — 
"Even  pearls   are   dark  before  the  whiteness  of  his 

teeth ! " 

The  pelting  crowd  grew  silent  and  ashamed,  like  one 
Rebuked  by  sight  of  wisdom  higher  than  his  own ; 
And  one  exclaimed,  "  No  creature  so  accursed  can  be, 
But  some  good  thing  in  him  a  loving  eye  will  see." 


190  SPECIMENS    OF 


FALSE    PIETY. 


He  who  from  love  to  God  neglects  the  human  race 
Goes  mto  darkness  with  a  glass,  to  see  his  face ! 

MERIT   AND    PLACE. 

A  jewel  is  a  jewel  still,  though  lying  in  the  dust, 
And  sand  is  sand,  though  up  to  heaven  by  the  tempest 
thrust. 

WHAT    SAADI    SAYS    OF    WISHES. 

Had  the  cat  wings,  no  sparrow  could  live  in  the  air : 
Had  each  his  wish,  what  more  would  Allah  have  to 
spare  ? 

THE   NOBLEST    MAN. 

'Midst  noble  men  they  Hatim  Tai  call 

In  generosity  the  first  of  all. 

He  said :   "  When  forty  camels  I  had  slain 

To  give  my  guests,  I  saw  upon  the  plain 

A  man  who  thorns  and  thistles  plucked  with  care. 

Disguised  I  went,  and  asked,  '  Why  not  go  share 

With  those  whom  Hatim  Tai's  house  doth  feed  ? ' 

He  said,  '  Of  Hatim's  house  I  have  no  need 

While  my  own  toil  a  humble  meal  can  buy.' 

My  friends,  that  was  a  nobler  man  than  I." 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  191 

IMPEDING    PLEASURE.     H. 

Who  after  wisdom  flies  must  guard  both  foot  and  wing 
From  pleasure's  honey,  or  therein  he  '11  stick  and  cling. 

THE    FOLLY    OF    INDIFFERENCE.     H. 

"  It  goes  best  with  me  then,"  said  a  carousing  king, 
"  When  on  the  earth  grieves  me  no  good  or  evil  thing : 
So  let  the  couriers  of  Fate  their  tidings  bring." 
A  naked  beggar,  'neath  the  window  stretched,  cried  out : 
"  How  then  does  your  imperial  robe  surpass  my  clout  ? 
Nothing  irks  me  :  I  tremble  at  no  sudden  shout." 

PRECEPT    WITHOUT   PRACTICE.     H. 

Who  learns  and  learns,  but  acts  not  what  he  knows. 
Is  one  who  ploughs  and  ploughs,  but  never  sows. 

PATIENCE    WINS.     H. 

Haste  not :  the  flying  courser,  over-heated,  dies, 
While  step  by  step  the  patient  camel  goal-ward  plies. 

EVIL    INTERFERENCE.     H. 

Fan  not  the  hostile  spark  between  two  friends  that  glows; 
For  they  will  soon  embrace,  but  both  remain  thy  foes. 


192  SPECIMENS    OF 


MEANS    AND    END. 


Wealth  must  be  meant  to  ease  the  load  of  life, 
Not  life  to  load  us  with  the  weight  of  wealth. 
Stealth  's  only  used  to  win  some  aim  of  strife, 
Not  strife 's  pursued  as  means  to  practise  stealth. 


THE   HORSELEECH. 

Canst  thou  tell  me  what  is  insatiable  ? 

The  greedy  eye  of  avarice  ! 
Were  all  the  universe  a  loaded  table, 

It  never,  never  could  fill  this  ! 


THE    USELESSNESS    OP   ENVY. 

Mean  souls  wish  sorrow  to  the  happy-minded. 
And  hate  the  sun  that  sweetly  smiles  upon  content. 
But  when  base  owls  and  bats,  by  midday  blinded, 
Accuse  the  light,  is  the  sun  into  darkness  sent  ? 

SAADI    SAYS,   NIP   THE    BUD. 

A  sprout  of  evil,  ere  it  has  struck  root, 
With  thumb  and  finger  one  up-pulls : 
To  start  it,  when  grown  up  and  full  of  fruit, 
Requires  a  mighty  yoke  of  bulls. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  193 

LAW   ALONE    RELIABLE.     H. 

One  lucky  hit  affords  no  rule ; 

Who  thinks  it  does,  he  is  a  fool. 

The  king  of  Persia  once  set  up 

His  costliest  ring  upon  a  cup, 

And  unto  all  his  archers  cries, 

"  Who  hits  that  ring,  it  is  his  prize." 

In  vain  the  most  expert  of  all 

Essay  to  shoot  it  off  the  ball. 

An  inexperienced  striphng  tries : 

His  chance-sped  arrow  strikes  the  prize. 

Before  he  never  had  bent  bow. 

He  wisely  said,  "  'T  was  luck,  I  know ; 

And  that  my  fame  may  still  remain, 

I  never  will  bend  bow  again." 


GUILT  S    PANG    THE    WORST. 

Beneath  the  tiger's  jaw  I  heard  a  victim  cry, 
"  Thanks,  God,  that,  though  in  pain,  yet  not  in  guilt  1 
die!" 

SAADl'S    HERALDRY. 

If  there  were  not  an  eagle  in  the  realm  of  birds, 

Must  then  the  owl  be  king  among  the  feathered  herds  ? 


194  SPECIMENS    OF 

WHAT   IS    WEALTH?     H. 

Thus  did  a  choking  wanderer  in  the  desert  cry  : 
"  O  that  Allah  one  prayer  would  grant  before  I  die  ; 
That  I  might  stand  up  to  my  knees  in  a  cool  lake, 
My  burning  tongue  and  parching  throat  in  it  to  slake." 
No  lake  he  saw ;  and  when  they  found  him  in  the  waste, 
A  bag  of  gems  and  gold  lay  just  before  his  face, 
And  his  dead  hand  a  paper  with  this  writing  grasped : 
"  Worthless  was  wealth  when  dying  for  water  I  gasped." 


FOUNT   AND    RIVER. 

The  bad  fount,  which  a  pitcher  can  hide  from  your  view, 
Feeds  a  stream  which  an  elephant  scarce  can  wade 
through. 

THE    king's    EXAMPLE.      H. 

Once  Sultan  Nushirvan  the  just,  hunting. 

Stopped  in  an  open  field  to  take  a  lunch. 

He  wanted  salt,  and  to  a  servant  said, 

"  Go,  get  some  at  the  nearest  house,  but  pay 

The  price  the  peasant  asks."     "  Great  king,"  exclaimed 

The  servant,  "  thou  art  lord  o'er  all  this  realm ; 

Why  take  the  pains  to  huy  a  little  salt  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  little  thing,"  said  Nushirvan, 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  195 

"  And  so,  at  first,  was  all  the  evil  whose 
Most  monstrous  load  now  presses  so  the  world. 
Were  there  no  little  wrongs,  no  great  could  be. 
If  I  from  off  a  poor  man's  tree  should  pluck 
A  single  apple,  straight  my  slaves  would  rob 
The  whole  tree  to  its  roots  :  if  I  should  seize 
Five  eggs,  my  ministers  at  once  would  snatch 
A  hundred  hens.     Therefore  strict  justice  must 
I,  even  in  unimportant  acts,  observe. 
Bring  salt,  but  pay  the  peasant  what  he  asks." 

THE  BANNER  AND  THE  CARPET,   H. 

Once  a  royal  banner  bent  his  head, 

And  unto  a  royal  carpet  said, 

In  the  Sultan's  palace  at  Bagdad : 

"  See  what  different  duties  we  have  had, 

And  how  different  too  is  our  reward. 

Though  we  're  servants  both  of  one  great  lord. 

I,  on  weary  marches,  tired  and  torn, 

Journey,  in  the  van  of  peril  borne. 

Thou,  afar  from  travel's  dust  and  pains, 

And  afar  from  battle's  siege  and  stains, 

In  the  palace  brightly  art  arrayed 

Where  young  prince,  and  dame,  and  beauteous  maid 

Odors  scatter  on  thine  every  band. 

Thou  art  blest :  but  me  some  menial  hand 


196  SPECIMENS    OF 

In  the  rawest  blast  extends,  or  holds 
High  upon  some  crag,  my  flapping  folds." 
Spake  the  soft,  rich  carpet  then,  and  said  : 
"  Thou  dost  lift  to  heaven  thy  haughty  head ; 
I  lie  here  beneath  my  sovereign's  tread  : 
As  a  slave  I  'm  kept  here,  nice  and  warm, 
Thou,  ambitious,  scorning  each  low  form, 
In  the  height  find'st  danger  and  the  storm  ! " 


FICKLENESS. 

Hard  separation's  thorn  already  grows 
Beneath  the  heart  of  every  friendship's  rose. 

THE    BRIEF    CHANCE-ENCOUNTER. 

As  two  floating  planks  meet  and  part  on  the  sea, 
O  friend !  so  I  met  and  then  drifted  from  thee. 

THE  THREEFOLD  CONDITION. 

That  what  was  bom  must  die,  is  true, 

And  that  what  dies  is  bom  anew. 

O  man  !  thou  know'st  not  what  thou  wert  of  late : 

But  what  thou  art  at  present,  learn 

In  thought  completely  to  discern, 

And  what  thou  shalt  become  anticipate. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  197 

INDOCILITY. 

Of  what  use  unto  fools  is  wise  discourse  ? 

In  vain  the  teacher  talks  until  he  's  hoarse. 

As  moonlight  streams  through  a  crack  in  the  roof, 

So  on  the  hearts  of  fools  shines  wise  reproof. 


THE    TRAITOR    SURPRISED, 

O  Sudra  !  think  not  thou  canst  hide  from  Siva's  eyes  : 
Bite  not  the  hook  beneath  a  painted  bait  hid  well. 
The  man  who  walked  o'er  treachery's  road  to  Paradise, 
When  at  the  journey's  end,  found  he  was  snug  in  Hell ! 


THE    DIFFERENCE.      H. 

Seek  wisdom,  while  on  earth,  as  if  you  were  immortal 

there  ; 
But  virtue,  as  if  death  already  had  you  by  the  hair ! 


DESPICABLE   PALLIATION. 

Who  laughingly  calls  it  a  good  piece  of  wit, 
When  friends  too  confiding  he  foully  betrays, 
He  then  should  admire,  as  a  hero  most  fit. 
The  man  who  a  sleeper  remorselessly  slays. 


198  SPECIMENS    OF 


THE    TAVO    BLOSSOMS. 


On  the  world's  infected  tree,  of  fruits  the  mother, 
Two  fair  blossoms  sprinkled  are  with  heavenly  dew- 
drops. 
Poetry  is  one,  and  Friendship  is  the  other. 
For  their  plucking,  Moslem,   Christian,  Brahmin,  Jew, 

stops. 
That  one  makes  all  nature  as  a  loving  brother : 
This  one,  when  the  heart  is  weak,  each  nerve  and  thew 
props. 

INJURY    OR    DEFILEMENT.     H. 

Avoid  a  villain  as  you  would  a  brand, 

Which,  hghted,  burns,  extinguished,  smuts  the  hand. 

UNADVISED    CONTEMPT.     H. 

Before  scorning  a  man  investigate  thou  him. 
For  some  contain  a  mine  of  harm,  yet  do  not  blab  it : 
Pass  not  with  careless  step  across  the  thicket  dim ; 
Beware !  that  empty  bush  a  tiger  may  inhabit. 

HUMAN    EVANESCENCE. 

Our  life  endures  —  such  is  its  brevity  — 
But  while  a  rain-drop  falls  from  cloud  to  sea. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  199 


TRADITION    AND    LIFE. 


Be  no  imitator  ;  freshly  act  thy  part ; 
Through  this  world  be  thou  an  independent  ranger 
Better  is  the  faith  that  springeth  from  thy  heart,  • 
Than  a  better  faith  belonging  to  a  stranger. 

MORAL    COMMERCE. 

Caring  not,  however  cynics  censure. 
All  the  wealth  of  heart  I  have  I  venture. 
And  to  man 's  equator-region  send  ship 
For  the  ivory,  spice,  and  gold  of  friendship. 

RESOLUTE    LABOR. 

Howe'er  the  ignorant  decry, 

Howe'er  oppose  the  envious  crew, 

Since  death  comes  soon,  and  brief  years  fly, 

Thy  firmly  chosen  work  pursue ! 

As  when  the  Demons  churned  the  sea 

"With  Mount  Meru,  although  they  found 

Jewels  it  dazzled  them  to  see. 

Though  horrid  poison  gushed  around, 

They  drove  the  mighty  churning  still, 

Holding  the  handle  closely  clasped. 

In  spite  of  sore  fatigue,  until 

Their  hands  the  bright  Amreeta  grasped. 


200  SPECIMENS    OP 


LIMITATION. 


Each  is  bounded  by  his  nature, 
And  remains  the  same  in  stature 
In  the  valley,  on  the  mountain. 
Scoop  from  ocean,  or  from  fountain, 
With  a  poor  hand,  or  a  richer, 
You  can  only  fill  your  pitcher. 

BRAHMINIC  CONSOLATION  :   FROM  THE  MAHABHARATA. 

Sad  friend!  thou  mourn'st  for  what  it  is  not  well  to 

mourn. 
No  garb  of  dark  lament  have  wise  men  ever  worn. 
Or  for  the  living,  or  the  dead.     Both  youth  and  age 
The  soul  in  this  poor  husk  doth  find,  and  on  each  stage 
Of  being  it  again  will  find,  'neath  other  veils. 
Heat,  cold,  pain,  pleasure,  every  earthly  thing,  still  fails. 
The  body  is  the  jail  of  time's  swift  weal  and  woe. 
Each  comes,  departs,  and  naught  remains  of  all  the 

show. 
O  Bharat's  son !  in  patience  bear  the  fates  below. 
The  wise  man  nothing  can  disturb :  to  him  the  same 
Are  sweet  and  sour,  censure  and  praise,  neglect  and 

fame. 
His  spirit  is  divinely  calm,  his  mind  supernal. 
That  which  creates  all  forms  is  formless  and  eternal. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  201 

UNIVERSALITY    OF    GOD. 

Exempt  from  lust,  exempt  from  love  of  pelf, 
The  wise  man  acts  unconscious  of  himself. 
He  cares  not  for  his  action's  consequence, 
But  feeds  devotion's  fire  with  pure  incense. 
God  is  his  gift,  his  sacrifice  is  God  ; 
God  is  his  sacrificial  knife  and  rod. 
Himself,  his  altar,  altar's  flame,  the  sward ; 
God  also  is  the  worship's  sole  reward. 

THE  CAUSE  AND  THE  AGENT. 

The  wall  said  to  the  nail,  "  What  have  I  done, 
That  through  me  thy  sharp  tooth  thou  thus  dost  run  ?  " 
The  nail  replied,  "  Poor  fool !  what  do  I  know  ? 
Ask  him  who  beats  my  head  with  many  a  blow  !  " 

THE    HOLY    LIE.     H. 

A  man-befriending  lie,  I  think,  in  sooth. 
Far  better  than  a  man-destroying  truth. 

7|f  ^  tI?  TP  ?|r 

A  king  in  wrath  once  bade  his  servants  slay 

A  man  who  had  offended  him  that  day. 

The  poor  man,  robbed  of  hope  by  this  dread  stroke, 

With  foreign  tongue  to  foulest  cursing  broke,  — 

As  in  despair  one  falleth  on  his  sword,  — 

And  cursed  the  king  with  each  reviling  word. 


202  SPECIMENS    OF 

"  What  says  he  ?  "  asked  the  king.     "  Lord,"  straight 

replied 
One  who  the  language  knew,  and  stood  b.eside 
The  throne,  "  he  says.  Heaven  is  for  him  who  lives 
In  meekness,  and  his  enemies  forgives." 
"  For  saying  so  divine  and  just  a  thing, 
This  moment  he  is  pardoned,"  cried  the  king. 
"  Not  so,"  a  second  courtier  loud  exclaimed ; 
"  The  slave  thy  soul  with  oaths  reviled  and  blamed." 
Then  rose  the  king,  and  said,  in  accents  stern, 
"  And  if  he  did,  your  soul  with  shame  should  burn 
To  think  this  good  man's  falsehood  doth  so  much, 
In  Allah's  sight,  outshine  your  truth  :  for  such 
A  lie  as  his  my  anger  would  assuage, 
While  such  a  truth  as  yours  would  more  enrage : 
And  know  the  lie  that  saves  a  human  breath 
Is  better  than  the  truth  that  causes  death  ! " 


TEST    OF    THE    RIVAL    GODS. 

'Twixt  Brahma,  Vishnu,  Siva,  —  as  a  Puran  shows,  — 
A  grave  dispute  once  raged,  and  still  grew  sharp  and 

strong : 
The  question  w^as,  wherefrom  the  solemn  quarrel  rose, 
To  which  one  of  the  three  did  precedence  belong  ? 

Then  Vishnu  said,  "  If  one  of  you,  uprising  fleet, 
Can  soar  to  where  my  head  extends  in  regions  dim. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  203 

Or  dive  so  far  as  to  discern  where  are  my  feet, 
At  once  I  will  the  palm  of  greatness  yield  to  him." 

For  fifty  million  years,  like  lightning  Brahma  soared : 

For  fifty  million  years,  like  lightning  Siva  dived ; 

But   Siva  could  not  reach  where  Vishnu's  feet   were 

lowered, 
And  Brahma  could  not  reach  where  Vishnu's  head  was 

hived. 

At  last  the  twain,  their  efforts  baffled,  back  returned, 
And  to  the  great  Preserver  paid  allegiance  due. 
Therefore  by  hosts  is  incense  now  to  Vishnu  burned, 
"While  Brahma's  worshippers  and  Siva's  are  so  few  ! 

TIME,    THE    MOWER. 

Where  is  thy  sire  ?  thy  loving  mother  where  ? 
Where  are  the  friends  who  in  thy  youth  did  share  ? 
They  bloomed  with  thee  like  trees  hard  by  the  shore ; 
The  stream  still  flows,  but  they  bloom  there  no  more. 
So  Time,  the  mower,  cuts  his  fatal  swath, 
And  mortals  see  him  not  across  their  path. 

SENSUALITY. 

Whom  the  senses  securely  have  caught. 
He  will  please  himself,  there  where  he  lies, 


204  SPECIMENS    OF 

Until  lust  becomes  seated  in  thought, 
And  from  lust  pain  and  folly  arise. 
Driven  out  of  high  Purity's  hall, 
From  his  noble  estate  he  will  fall, 
Losing  memory,  reason,  and  all. 

As  a  storm  on  the  ocean's  dark  breast 
Blows  a  banner's  light  fluttering  folds. 
So  his  fancies  lust  blows  without  rest, 
And  all  peace  from  his  spirit  withholds. 
Truly  happy  but  then  shalt  thou  be, 
When  desire  disappeareth  in  thee, 
As  a  stream  m  the  calm  of  the  sea. 

A    PERSIAN    SONG. 

The  mighty  globe  and  human  life 

A  gloomy  ocean  rolls  around : 

Floods  roar  on  floods,  in  endless  strife, 

The  floods  with  turbaned  clouds  are  crowned. 

The  future  is  a  black  abyss  ; 

The  present  time  alone  is  sure. 

O  youth,  spring  up  !  its  joys  secure. 

Remember,  when  upon  Kafs  summit 
Great  Anka  flew  o'er  every  cloud, 
His  pinion  shook  the  earth-dust  from  it. 
Surpassing  all  things  strong  and  proud. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  205 

He  soared  that  day,  he  soars  not  this : 
The  present  time  alone  is  sure. 

0  youth,  spring  up  !  its  joys  secure. 

1  see  the  midnight  of  thy  hair, 
And  of  thy  lips  the  morning-red, 
And  of  thy  smiles  the  day-shine  fair ; 
But  dawn,  day,  night,  will  soon  have  fled : 
The  fairest  things  we  soonest  miss  : 

The  present  time  alone  is  sure. 

0  youth,  spring  up !  its  joys  secure. 

A   RIDDLE. 

Between  a  thick-set  hedge  of  bones 
A  small  red  dog  now  barks,  now  moans 

^^  J  onSuo;  UBranq  y  „ 

THE    RIVER    OF    PLEASURE. 

A  dallying  stream,  in  greatest  and  in  least, 
Our  wishes  as  its  waves,  soft  Pleasure  flows. 
Insatiable  Lust,  a  monstrous  beast. 
Doth  ravening  in  its  hollow  deeps  repose. 

As  little  birds  across  the  billows  dart. 
Licentious  fancy  lures,  and  eager  passion  follows, 


206  SPECIMENS    OF 

Despising  what  it  has  and  can  impart, 
Until  his  prey  the  greedy  monster  swallows. 

Amidst  that  stream  a  whirlpool's  sucking  dimple 
Denotes  where  love  begins  its  headlong  course. 
The  stream's  opposing  banks  —  attend,  ye  simple  I  — 
Are  disappointment  deep  and  sharp  remorse. 

The  man  whose  heart  is  Virtue's  chosen  door, 
Whom  no  unworthy  lust  has  e'er  betrayed. 
Alone  can  safely  stand  upon  the  shore, 
And  through  the  shrunken  stream  uninjured  wade. 

TO    ZULEIKA. 

A  poet,  attempting  to  sing  of  thy  charm  ,, 
Sank  into  the  sea  of  astonishment's  arm  5, 
Till  thought  disappeared  in  bewildered  alarms. 
At  last,  the  small  shell  of  one  verse  from  the  sand 
He  plucked,  and  succeeded  in  reaching  the  strand. 
To  lay  his  sole  pearl  in  thy  beautiful  hand. 

THE    PRICE    OF    THE    PRIZE. 

Wouldst  the  honey  still  taste,  while  afraid  of  the  sting 

of  the  bee? 
Wouldst  the  victor's  crown  wear,  without  knowing  the 

terrible  fight? 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  207 

Could  the  diver  get  the  pearls  that  repose  in  the  depth 

of  the  sea 
If  he  stood  on  the  shore,  from  the  crocodile  shrinking  in 

fright  ? 
With  unfaltering   toil  thou  must  seek  what  the  Fates 

have  decreed 
May  be  won,  and  courageously  pluck  for  thyself  the 

bright  meed ! 

SURENESS    OF    PUNISHMENT. 

When  thou  hast  drained  a  swallow's  milk,  and  plucked 
A  hog's  soft  wool,  from  thorns  refreshing  juices  sucked. 
Seen  rocks  bear  olive-nuts,  the  sand  pomegranates  yield, 
A  Pariah's  will  annul  decrees  the  Sultan  sealed, 
A  harder  task  to  try  thy  vaunted  force  remains ;  — 
To  shield  a  wicked  man  from  retribution's  pains. 

A   RIDDLE. 

A  soul  above  it, 
And  a  soul  below, 
With  leather  between, 
And  swift  it  doth  go. 

•0|ppBJ:^s-'B  ut?ra  q;iAi  'asjoq  uq 
dippng  «  St  J9AVSUB  aqj^ 


208  SPECIMENS  OP 


THE  ORIENTAL  PALM. 


See  you,  my  son,  yon  ship  float  o'er  the  Indian  wave  ? 
The  precious  cocoa-pahn  to  it  its  light  keel  gave. 

The  rudder  and  the  mast,  palm-branch  or  shaft  supplies ; 
;!^d  for  what  else  the  ship  has  need  palm-barks  suffice. 

From  fibres  of  the  palm  are  twisted  rope  and  rail, 
And  from  its  porous  web  is  wrought  the  swelling  sail. 

Well  loaded  is  the  ship,  as  it  the  billows  cuts. 
Here  with  the  stony-shelled  but  sap-full  cocoa-nuts, 

And  there  with  vessels,  made  of  palm-nuts   hollowed 

fine. 
All   filled   with   palm-oil,   palm-milk,  palm-kraut,  and 

palm-wine. 

But  in  the  midst  there  sits,  wise  master  of  the  charm, 
A  man  whose  cunning  drew  all  this  from  out  one  palm. 

Within  the  cabin  sits  he  on  a  palm-mat  soft. 

And  a  thiek  palm-thatch  shields  him  from  the  sun  aloft. 

The  dress  he  wears  was  woven  from  the  palm's  silk 

strands, 
And  a  book  of  palm-leaves  reposes  in  his  hands. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  209 

At  noon  a  broad  palm-hat  protects  his  cheek  from  tan, 
And  gratefully  he  cools  his  brow  with  palm-leaf  fan. 

His  wants  to  meet  with  uses  various  and  benign, 
Through  all  the  Hindu's  life  the  palm  is  a  gift  divine. 

And  when  with  parting  breath  is  freed  the  world's  poor 

slave, 
A  clean  palm-linen  shroud  wraps  him  for  pyre  or  grave. 

PROLIFIC    SILENCE.     R. 

In  silence  wise  men  oft  great  things  have  to  perfection 

brought ; 
And  fools  as  oft  have  made  a  most  tremendous  noise  for 

naught. 

The  mighty  sky-wheel  rolls  about  its  axis  without  sound : 
The  weaver's  rickety  spool  rattles  its  clattering  course 
around. 

This  wooden  bobbin  only  a  small  piece  of  linen  yields : 
That  azure  one  with  starry  veil  o'erspreads  heaven's 
boundless  fields. 

THE   LONGING    OF   HAFIZ. 

From  cloistered  cell  poor  Hafiz  turns  his  eyes, 
And  Allah  prays  in  supplicating  cries :  — 
"  There  is  a  honey-fount  of  maiden  lips ; 


'^10  SPECIMENS    OF 

O,  were  I  sipping  on  its  crimson  brim, 

I  would  not  care  how  fast  this  lifetime  slips, 

Nor  think  how  soon  the  sinking  sun  grows  dim  ! 

There  is  a  secret  place  of  sweet  repose, 

Hid  in  the  breast  of  blushing  maiden  rose ; 

O,  were  I  there,  I  'd  cease  these  plaining  cries. 

And  care  for  nothing  more  beneath  the  skies ! " 

THE    DOUBLE    PLOT.     R. 

Three  hungry  travellers  found  a  bag  of  gold : 
One  ran  into  the  town  where  bread  was  sold. 

He  thought,  I  will  poison  the  bread  I  buy. 
And  seize  the  treasure  when  my  comrades  die.  - 

But  they  too  thought,  when  back  his  feet  have  hied. 
We  will  destroy  him,  and  the  gold  divide. 

They  killed  him,  and,  partaking  of  the  bread. 
In  a  few  moments  all  we^e  lying  dead. 

O  World  !  behold  what  ill  thy  goods  have  done : 
Thy  gold  thus  poisoned  two,  and  murdered  one  ! 

A   PEARL    OF    GREAT    PRICE. 

A  giant  muscle  is  this  world,  I  said, 
And  thou  a  single  pearl  within  it  laid. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  211 

THE   FAIR   WINE-BEARER. 

Down  sinks  the  night ;  and  with  a  jar  of  wine 
Comes  Allia,  and  pours  the  purple  shine. 

While  from  the  jar  gushes  the  dark  red  wine, 
From  her  fair  mouth  fall  drops  of  honey  fine. 

Come,  AlUa,  and  let  the  ruby  wine 
Mix  with  the  honey  of  thy  mouth  divine. 

Now  quickly  pour  for  me  the  imperial  wine. 
And  let  my  mouth  the  dainty  union  sign. 

The  flame  of  my  bosom  and  of  this  wine 
Pleads  hard  for  those  sweet  lips  of  thine ! 

A   PERSIAN    REVERIE.     R. 

O  that  in  some  oasis  green 

A  fount  of  red  wine  gushed. 
While  round  the  paradisal  scene 

A  boundless  desert  rushed. 

For  to  that  fountain  I  would  go, 

And  pitch  my  life-tent  there ; 
That  in  its  quiet  I  might  know 

A  bliss  beyond  compare. 


212  SPECIMENS    OP 

Sad  men,  oppressed  with  grief  and  care, 
And  boorish  spirits,  known  afar, 

Should  never  reach  that  region  fair. 
Its  cahn  content  to  mar. 

Sweet  nightingales  should  scatter  round 
Their  warblings  on  the  grass  ; 

The  light  gazelle  should  graze  and  bound. 
And  not  a  hunter  pass. 

There  peace  profound  I  would  enjoy. 

And  Hafiz'  rhymes  repeat. 
Till  pleasure's  honey-songs  should  cloy 

My  lips  with  dripping  sweet. 

GOETHE    ON  HAFIZ. 

If  the  word  is  the  bride. 
The  bridegroom,  't  is  implied, 
Is  the  sense,  and  the  twain 
Hafiz  weds  in  his  strain. 


FLEETINGNESS    OF    LOVE. 

Swiftly  rises  up  the  peering,  jealous  Moon, 
Looking  down  to  see  yon  lovers'  tender  kissing : 
When  a  month  has  gone,  she  comes  again  as  soon  ; 
But  the  silence  old  is  there,  —  the  lovers  missing. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  213 

A    LIQUID    HOUSE    OF    GLASS.      R. 

Among  the  hills  there  sleeps  a  crystal  lake, 
Which,  like  a  glass,  a  stick  or  stone  can  break. 

But  on  the  man  who  dares  that  glass  to  shake 
The  Spirits  housed  beneath  it  vengeance  take. 

Those  Spirits  there  have  scooped  a  mirror-room, 
And  overarched  its  roof  with  light  and  gloom. 

The  sun  shines  in  that  house,  all  clear  and  still. 
And  trees'  cool  shadows  form  its  threshold's  sill. 

No  beast  nor  bird  comes  near  its  liquid  doors, 
But  drink  and  bathe  they  where  its  outlet  pours. 

When  any  man  looks  in  that  builded  spring. 
He  sees  the  Spirits  tread  its  floor  and  sing. 

Should  he  disturb  the  glass,  in  strange  reproof 

A  voice  cries,  "Who  has  shattered  my  smooth  roof?" 

And  nevermore  shall  mortals  look  on  him, 

Till  through  the  outlet  far  his  corpse  doth  swim. 

THE    CUNNING   PRIESTS.     R. 

In  Mahadura's^temple  lies  a  golden  shoe. 
Three  ells  in  length.      Dost  ask,  "Who  has  fit  feet 
thereto?" 


214  SPECIMENS    OF 

My  son,  the  god  of  hunting,   who  those  woods  doth 

thread 
Which  so  impenetrably  o'er  this  land  are  spread. 

So  rough  and  thorny  is  the  way,  that  not  a  god 
Could   hunt  in  those  preserves  unless  he  were  thus 
shod. 

Each  twelvemonth  a  new  pair  are   placed  that  altar 

near, 
Because  the  god  wears  out  his  old  ones  in  a  year. 


A   BELIEVER  S    SHROUD.     R. 

I  saw  a  Moslem  work  upon  his  shroud  alone, 
With  earnest  care,  even  as  the  silk-worms  weave  their 
own. 

In  his  illness  it  always  near  his  bedside  lay. 
And  he  wrote  Koran-verses  on  it  night  and  day. 

When  with  that  sacred  script  it  was  filled  from  side  to 

side. 
He  wrapt  it  round  his  body,  and  in  calmness  died. 

In  that  protecting  robe,  now  buried  in  the  ground, 
Still  may  he  know  the  peace  he  in  its  writing  found ! 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  215 

HAFIZ'    SONG    OF    THE    SAINT. 

Leave,  O  leave,  Abou  Nasar ! 
Height  and  depth  and  distance  far. 

List  to  reason,  and  come  here, 
In  the  wine-house,  to  the  bar. 

Glitters  in  the  goblet's  blood 
Many  a  dusky  heavenly  star. 

Shine  here  round  the  clinking  board, 
Thoughts  as  clear  as  diamond  spar. 

Wander  to  the  tavern,  then ; 
Sit,  and  leave  the  door  ajar. 

Hang  your  lantern  in  yon  nook ; 
Drink,  and  laugh  at  priest  and  Shah. 

In  the  wine-cup's  dregs,  behold, 
All  your  life-grains  sprouting  are ! 

Glides,  while  you  the  beaker  lift, 
Past  the  portal.  Fate's  dark  car. 

Let  it  pass,  and  take  no  heed  : 

Bliss  like  yours  there  's  naught  to  mar. 


216  SPECIMENS    OF 

For  a  seat  in  some  wine-house 
Sell  the  world,  and  shout,  Hurrah  ! 

In  each  wine-drop  here  your  host 
Pours  the  wealth  of  heaven's  bazaar. 

Brim  the  cup,  and  sip  the  foam,  — 
All  the  earth 's  not  worth  an  "  ah !  '* 

HAFIZ    REPUDIATES    MEDIATORS. 

Take  an  example  from  the  roses, 
Who  hve  direct  on  sun  and  dew : 
They  never  question  after  Moses, 
And  why,  in  heaven's  name,  should  you  ? 

THE   RESURRECTION    SPELL. 

Come  not  with  saddest  of  sighs, 
Come  not  with  bitterest  tears, 
Where  the  dead  Hafiz'  form  lies, 
At  the  dark  goal  of  his  years. 
Come  with  a  beaker  of  wine, 
Come  with  a  song  on  thy  lip, 
And  at  that  signal  divine 
Will  the  dead  drunkard  up  skip, 
Join  his  old  voice  in  thy  strain, 
Dance  till  the  stars  shout  again. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  217 

HAFIZ    IN    THE   JUDGMENT. 

When  the  day  of  judgment  solemn  shall  break, 
And  the  earth's  collected  races  all  quake, 
On  a  throne  uplift,  and  shining  divine, 
Shall  be  seen  mad  Hafiz,  Prophet  of  Wine. 
Wouldst  the  sentence  know  that  he  will  declare  ? 
Then  attend ;  these  are  the  words  he  will  swear : 
"  Come,  ye  drunken  ones,  be  blest  on  my  right ; 
Go,  ye  sober  ones,  and  sink  from  my  sight ! " 

MELLIFLUOUS    SPEECH. 

In  vain  you  undertake  to  speak  a  bitter  word ;  — 
It  meets  the  sweetness  of  your  lips  before  it 's  heard ! 

THE    MEED    OF    HAFIZ. 

Hark!  hear'st  thou  not  from  heaven   those  strains  of 

music  ringing  ? 
The  angel-choir  at  practice  Hafiz'  songs  are  smging. 

THE    SPRING. 

The  Spring  has  come  to  loosen  Winter's  band ; 
Messiah's  breath  is  through  the  meadows  fanned. 

A  writing  has  been  dropped  from  God's  own  hand ; 
The  magic  blossoms  as  its  letters  stand. 


218  SPECIMENS    OF 

Now  Hafiz  seeks  the  wine-house,  ancient  planned, 
That  he  the  manuscript  may  understand. 

One  cup,  —  bright  shine  those  hieroglyphics  grand  ; 
Two  cups,  —  his  heart  becomes  a  flaming  brand. 

Three  cups,  —  he  ravished  floats  from  this  world's  strand, 
And  reads  the  meaning  clear  in  Houri-land. 

LUTE    AND    beaker:    FROM   HAFIZ. 

This  lute  to  many  a  feast  has  added  zest, 
This  goblet  waited  on  full  many  a  guest. 

Believer,  come !  the  wine-house  lures ;  come,  hark, 
And  drink ;  with  cup  and  lute  be  wholly  blest. 

Their  wine  and  music  put  to  shame  the  lore 
Of  Koran,  Puran,  Ved,  and  Zendavest. 

Believer,  come  !  feel  inspiration's  breath 

Exhaling  through  your  soul,  and  through  your  breast. 

And  if  the  world  would  catch  you  in  her  snares, 
Reject  her  with  the  might  of  one  protest. 

Unnumbered  sages  have  rejoiced  when  soft 
This  lute's  sweet  solace  has  their  hearts  caressed. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  219 

Unnumbered  kings  have  smiled  to  quaiF  this  cup, 
When  anxious  thought  and  woe  their  souls  oppressed. 

Through  these  two  charmers  dear,  unnumbered  bards 
Have  drowned  their  pain  when  grief  their  lives  pos- 
sessed. 

This  lute  and  cup  have  much  life-wisdom  won, 
Experience  of  the  East  and  of  the  West. 

They  know  the  ancient  secrets  to  relate 
Of  Solomon's,  of  Jemschid's  harem-nest. 

They  know  of  celebrated  haughty  thrones, 
Of  many  a  shattered  crown  and  tattered  vest. 

They  know  the  magic  fruit  of  Paradise, 
Which  ripens  not  on  this  world's  boughs  at  rest. 

All  this  in  their  dear  circles  they  impart, 
At  feasts,  to  the  clear  spirits  of  the  blest. 

They  have  against  the  idle  host  of  cares 
Declared  a  war  by  open  manifest. 

For  ages*  frost  they  give  a  robe  of  flame, 
For  sorrow's  fire  a  raiment  of  asbest. 


220  SPECIMENS    OF 

He  in  whose  mind  this  witch-lute's  music  melts 
The  core  from  every  mystery  shall  wrest. 

He  through  whose  veins  this  god-cup's  nectar  pours 
Shall  riddles  read  no  other  man  hath  guessed. 

Who  drains  the  wealth  of  both  shall  see  at  once 
Dark  Ahriman  a  solved  and  faded  jest. 

These  lute-cup  strains  and  streams  of  tone  and  taste 
Make  of  the  poorest  inn  a  heaven  confessed. 

The  pious  saint  who  drinks  their  breath  and  blood 
Shall  sit,  bliss-drunk,  upon  creation's  crest. 

He  shall  through  dazzling  skies  of  pleasure  soar, 
With  godhead  filled,  and  in  delirium  dressed. 

He  shall  through  reeling  seas  of  wonder  sink. 
Still  grasping  fast  the  aim  of  every  quest. 

In  joyous  peace  content,  with  safety  crowned. 
He  shall  despise  each  threat,  each  poisonous  pest. 

And  when  life  ends,  to  heaven  he  shall  spring, 
And  prove  his  bhs§  by  death's  supremest  test. 

The  lute,  then,  twang !  the  goblet  clink  and  kiss !  — - 
'T  is  dying,  drunken  Hafiz'  farewell  best. 


ORIENTAL   POETRY.  221 

THE    KIBLA   AND    THE    DEVOTEE.    R. 

The  Kibla  unto  which  the  faithful  turn  themselves  is 
Mecca ; 

The  Kibla  after  which  the  royal  strive  is  worldly  em- 
pire; 

The  Kibla  of  the  trafficker  is  piles  of  gold  and  silver ; 

The  Kibla  of  the  lover  is  the  beauty  of  the  loved 
one ; 

The  Kibla  of  the  sensual  is  good  eating,  drinking,  sleep- 
ing; 

The  Kibla  of  the  studious  is  knowledge,  truth,  and  cul- 
ture; 

The  Kibla  of  the  ravished  saint  is  but  the  face  of 
Allah,— 

The  Kibla  which  is  higher  than  all  knowledge,  truth, 
and  culture. 

The  Kibla  which  is  better  than  good  eating,  drinking, 
sleeping. 

The  Kibla  which  is  fairer  than  the  beauty  of  the  loved 
one. 

The  Kibla  which  is  richer  than  the  utmost  gold  and 
silver, 

The  Kibla  which  is  grander  than  the  whole  of  earthly 
empire. 

The  Kibla  which  is  holier  than  the  holy  house  at 
Mecca. 


222  SPECIMENS   OF 

THE    DRAWBACK. 

Better  through  life  barefooted  press, 

Than  m  a  pinching  shoe  ; 
Better  no  house  or  home  possess, 

Than  have  a  bad  wife  too ! 

THE    camel's    table. 

The  camel's  table  in  the  waste  is  spread ; 
He  gladly  picks  a  meal  from  out  the  dirt ; 
One  pleasant  herb  is  all  he  asks  for  bread. 
And  one  sour  weed  suffices  for  dessert. 


TIME    or   LIFE. 

The  past  is  a  dream. 
The  future  a  breath. 
The  present  a  gleam 
From  birth  unto  death. 


THE    SUNKEN    SUN. 


? 


Hath  the  sun  not  yet  sunk  with  its  glitter  j 

Yes,  and  no,  one  may  swear  ! 
Look  above,  where  those  gay  swallows  twitter ; 

It  is  still  seen  from  there. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  223 

TO    A    GENEROUS    MAN. 

To  cloud  of  rain,  refreshing  all  the  land, 
It  is  not  fit  to  liken  thy  free  hand ; 
For  as  that  gives,  it  weeps  meanwhile, 
But  thou  stUl  givest  with  a  smile. 

LOVE-BLENDED    SOULS. 

My  soul  is  commingled  with  thine, 
As  water  is  mingled  with  wine. 

THE   NINTH    PARADISE.     K. 

In  the  nine  heavens  are  eight  Paradises  ; 
Where  is  the  ninth  one  ?   In  the  human  breast. 
Only  the  blessed  dwell  in  th'  Paradises, 
But  blessedness  dwells  in  the  human  breast. 
Created  creatures  are  in  th'  Paradises, 
The  uncreated  Maker  in  the  breast. 
Rather,  O  man,  want  those  eight  Paradises, 
Than  be  without  the  ninth  one  in  thy  breast. 
Given  to  thee  are  those  eight  Paradises 
When  thou  the  ninth  one  hast  within  thy  breasL 


224  SPECIMENS    OE 

THIRTY   TRANSLATIONS   FROM   MIRTSA   SCHAFFt. 
I.     A   PROPHECY   TO   BE   FULFILLED. 

Through  all  lands  shall  thy  verses,  O  Mirtsa  SchafFy  ! 
Be  borne  forth,  and  the  tones  of  thy  voice  be  heard 

sounding : 
The  brave  thoughts  and  live  words  of  thine  utterance 

free 
Shall  go  over  the  world,  in  sweet  echoes  rebounding. 

II.      A   DEFENCE    OF    THE    POETS. 

The  thistle  asks  the  red-ripe  rose, 
"Why  art  not  also  thou  a  thistle  ? 
The  ass  might  eat  thee  as  he  goes,  — 
But  now  thou  art  not  worth  a  whistle." 

The  goose,  with  accent  patronizing, 
Asks  the  bulbul,  "  Thou  useless  beast ! 
Why  dost  thou  not,  life  sacrificing 
Like  me,  afford  to  man  a  feast  ?  " 

So  the  philistine  asks  the  poet, 
"  What  good  does  thy  song  do  the  state  ? 
Henceforth  why  not  as  well  forego  it, 
And  be  to  good  works  dedicate  ?  " 

O  ye  philistines,  geese,  and  thistles  I 
Each  one  his  proper  calling  plies  : 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  225 

Because,  forsooth  !  an  idiot  whistles, 
Shall  wise  men  therefore  not  be  wise  ? 

III.     THE    GROUND    OF   DRINKING. 

The  best  ground  is  the  ground  of  wet  gold 

In  the  depth  of  a  beaker : 
The  best  mouth  is  the  mouth,  from  of  old, 

Of  the  wine-praising  speaker.  — - 

IV.     A   PERSIAN   SERENADE. 

In  the  mosque  of  true  love, 
See  me  kneel  at  the  shrine ; 
Hear  my  heart  call  above 
For  an  answer  from  thine. 

With  dehght,  or  with  scorn, 

Dost  thou  hark  while  I  sing  ? 

Throw  a  rose  or  a  thorn,  — 

Life  or  death  it  will  bring ! 
\ 

v.    SATIRE    UPON    MIBTSA   JUSS^P. 

Surely  Mirtsa  Jussuf  as  a  critic  was  bom, 
For  his  taste  there  is  nothing  sufficient  to  please  : 
The  bright  day  is  so  clear  he  condemns  it  with  scorn. 
He  regards  with  contempt  every  man  whom  he  sees. 
That  his  face  has  a  nose  its  fore-front  to  adorn ! 


226  SPECIMENS    OF 

He  dislikes  the  soft  rose  that  impregnates  the  breeze, 
Since  beneath  it  by  search  he  can  find  a  sharp  thorn : 
And  he  loathes  all  the  splendors  of  sunset  and  morn. 

Every  fact  that  perplexes  his  head  he  thinks  wrong ; 
How  it  vexes  and  irks  him !  how  anxious  is  he ! 
His  conceit  never  dreams  that  himself  in  the  throng 
Is  a  mere  speck  of  foam  on  the  breast  of  the  sea. 
In  sharp  discord  with  art,  and  with  nature  more  strong. 
He  goes  fretting  about ;  and  calm  Mirtsa  Schaffy 
With  a  roguish  grimace  makes  him  hasten  along. 
And  extracts  from  his  gall  the  sweet  charm  of  this  song ! 

VI.    EMULOUS     LOVE  :   TO    T50DENSTEDT. 

As  towards  one  lofty  goal  we  drive, 
In  one  entanglement  we  strive, 
Both  I  and  thou. 

My  heart  holds  thee,  and  me  holds  thine ; 
Though  sundered,  yet  conjoined  we  twine. 
Both  I  and  thou. 

My  wit  caught  thee,  thine  eye  caught  me, 
And  as  two  fish  we  swim  one  sea. 
Both  I  and  thou. 

Yet  not  like  fish,  but  through  the  air, 
We  sailing  soar,  an  eagle  pair, 
Both  I  and  thou  ! 


ORIENTAL    rOETRY.  227 

VII.  LINES    TO    JUSSIjF,    THE    PLAGIARIST. 

Better  stars  without  shine, 
Than  the  shine  without  stars. 
Better  wine  without  jars, 
Than  the  jars  without  wine. 
Better  honey  without  bees, 
Than  the  bees  without  honey. 
Better  please  without  money, 
Than  have  money,  but  not  please ! 

VIII.  PRIESTS    PERSECUTE    THE    RADICAL. 

Who  loveth  the  truth,  the  bridle  must  hold  in  his  hand : 
Who  thinheth  the  truth,  with  foot  in  the  stirrup  must  stand : 
Who  speaketh  the  truth,  for  arms  must  with  wings  be 

equipped : 
Who  telleth  a  lie,  —  says  Mirtsa   Schaffy,  —  shall  be 

whipped ! 

IX.  FRAGMENT    OF   A    SONG    TO    ZULEIKA. 

What  is  the  blooming  rose's  cup,  where  nightingales  may 

sip. 
Compared  with  thy  more  blooming  mouth,  and  thy  much 

sweeter  lip  ? 
What  is  the  sun,  and  what  the  moon,  and  what   each 

glowing  star  ? 
They  burn  and  tremble  but  for  thee,  still  ogling  thee 

from  far. 


228  SPECIMENS     OF 

And  what  am  I,  my  heart,  the  love-mad  songs  that  I 
create  ? 

We  are  the  blessed  slaves  thy  beauty  doomed  to  cele- 
brate! 

X.    IMPROMPTU   WELCOME    TO    A   FRIEND. 

Come  in  the  evening  and  come  in  the  morning ; 
Come  when  I  ask  you,  and  come  without  warning : 
Mirtsa  Schaffy,  with  you  when  a-meeting, 
Always  rejoices,  and  his  heart  gives  you  greeting. 

XI.    INTOXICATION    OF   LOVE. 

She  but  wept  my  drunkenness, 
And  my  utter  sunkenness ; 

And  no  pity  I  found. 
O  to  be  for  ever  drunk, 
And  to  be  for  ever  sunk, 

In  thy  white  arms  drowned  I 

XII.    MIRTSA    SCHAFFf   ON   EYES. 

A  gray  eye  is  a  sly  eye, 
And  roguish  is  a  brown  one : 
Turn  full  upon  me  thy  eye,  — 
Ah,  how  its  wavelets  drown  one  ! 
A  blue  eye  is  a  true  eye  ; 
Mysterious  is  a  dark  one, 
Which  flashes  like  a  spark-sun  ! 
A  black  eye  is  the  best  one. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  229 

XIII.    TRUTH  AND   PRUDENCE. 

The  fulness  of  truth  to  express  is  most  dangerous  now ; 
Yet,  Mrtsa  Schafff !  ever  noble  and  truthful  be  thou, 
Nor  as  a  false  light  on  the  marshes  of  lying  be  left : 
All  beauty  is  true ;  and  from  beauty  be  thou  never  reft. 
Yet,  every  treatment  perverse  to  avoid  or  outreach. 
Thy  wisdom  be  veiled  in  a  raiment  of  flowery  speech  ; 
As  clustering  grapes,  nearly  bursting  with  daintiest  juice, 
Are  hidden  by  leaves  and  green  tendrils  from  sight  and 
abuse. 

XIV.     ADMONITION    IN  REVELRY. 

For  pleasure's  bright  sport  the  carelessest  seeker 

All  through  the  wide  world  to  the  South, 
"When  Mirtsa  Schaffy  took  up  the  red  beaker, 

With  sayings  of  wit  in  his  mouth,  — 
As,  drinking,  his  heart  grew  ever  more  jolly, 

He  saw,  o'er  the  goblet's  foamed  rim 
Uprising  in  pomp,  to  judge  the  world's  folly. 

And  fearfully  frowning  on  him, 
A  dreadful  avenger  mount  from  the  wine-lake, 
And  speak  to  remorse  for  wisdom's  benign  sake. 

XV.     THE   DARK   TRANSITION. 

"Where  ends  wrong-doing 
Begins  long  rueing. 


230  SPECIMENS  OF 

XVI.  A  SQUIB  FOR  THE  WISE  MAN  OF  BAGDAD. 

Mirtsa  Jussuf  is  a  much-learned  man ! 

Now  reads  he  Hafiz,  and  now  the  Koran, 

Dschamj,  Chakany,  Saadi's  Giihstan; 

Here  steals  an  image,  and  there  steals  a  flower, 

Now  robs  a  casket,  and  now  strips  a  bower. 

What  has  been  often  said  says  he  again. 

Sets  the  whole  world  in  his  plagiarized  strain, 

Tricks  out  his  booty  in  scrambled-up  plumes, 

Spreads  himself,  and  the  name  poet  assumes ! 

Otherwise  lives  and  sings  Mirtsa  Schafly" : 

Not  a  purloiner  from  others  is  he ; 

Glows  his  own  heart  as  a  guide-star  in  gloom ; 

Scattering  far  a  celestial  perfume. 

And  with  no  stolen  productions  bedressed. 

Bloom  a  whole  garden  of  flowers  in  his  breast. 

XVII.  LOVE,  THE  GATE  OF  HEAVEN. 

When,  on  a  day,  the  gates  of  Paradise 
Stand  open  for  the  good  as  their  reward. 
Great  hosts,  both  men  of  virtue  and  of  vice. 
Will  look  in  doubt  and  terror  to  the  Lord. 
But  I,  whatever  be  the  others'  fates. 
Shall  stand,  by  doubt  and  fear  quite  unconcerned. 
Since,  long  before,  to  me  on  earth  ihh  gates 
Of  Paradise  through  thee  were  open  turned  ! 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  231 

XVIII.     LAMENT    FOR   DEPARTED   DAYS. 

When,  as  my  life's  appointed  courses  wend, 
The  blessed  day  of  youth  is  ended  quite, 
'T  is  true  remembrances,  like  stars,  ascend ; 
But  then  they  only  show  that  it  is  night ! 

XIX.     THE    SONGS    OF   MIRTSA   SCHAFF^^. 

As  the  floating  raiment  glances  round  thy  limbs. 
So  the  rhyming  music  hangs  around  my  songs : 
Charming  is  the  lure  that  to  the  robe  belongs, 
Fairer  far  the  dazzling  beauty  it  bedims. 

XX.  MIRTSA  SCHAFFY  TO  HIS  YOUNG  BRIDE. 

Where  rose  aloft  old  Mount  Elborz, 
His  top  the  cloud-world  reached : 
Spring  blushed  upon  his  flowery  floors, 
While  snows  his  forehead  bleached. 

So  I,  as  ancient  Mount  Elborz, 
Have  frost  upon  my  brow : 
While,  blushing  at  my  summer  doors, 
A  beauteous  Spring  art  thou. 

XXI.     THE   WINE    OF   THE    SOUL. 

Once,  as  Mirtsa  Schaffy  sat  a  quaffing  clear  wine, 
His  heart's  pity  grew  vast,  his  mind's  wit  grew  divine. 


232  SPECIMENS    OF 

He  rose  up,  gave  his  lute  a  melodious  clang, 
And,  beginning  to  sing,  it  was  thus  that  he  sang : 
"  As  the  hallowing  flames  of  the  wine  I  inspire, 
And,  they  gush  o'er  my  lips,  touching  all  with  their  fire, 
I  in  seas  of  wild  ravishment  limitless  swim. 
And  a  crystalline  bliss  fills  the  scene  to  its  brim. 
Such  a  joy  to  young  Adam  was  given  ere  the  Fall 
O,  I  would  it  were  poured  o'er  humanity  all ! 
Could  my  body,  dissolving  to  wine,  only  fall, 
And  each  world  be  a  drop  in  the  flood  of  the  All, 
What  a  grand  resurrection  we  then  might  acquire, 
Coming  forth  from  that  bath  in  new  strength  and  fresh 
fire ! 

XXII.     THE    poet's   offering. 

I,  in  my  glowing  songs,  from  out  the  skies 

Snatch  sun  and  moon  and  stars, 
And  lay  them  as  a  burning  sacrifice 

On  Beauty's  altar-bars. 

XXIII.     MIKTSA   SCHArrf   DEFENDS    HIS   THEMES. 

Doth  it  displease  you  that  I  sing 
Of  few  things  only  as  divine  ? 
Of  naught  but  roses,  love,  and  spring, 
And  nightingales,  and  wooing  wine  ? 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  283 

Which  were  the  best,  that  I  should  praise 
Will-o'-the-wisps  and  wax  flambeaux  ? 
Or  to  the  Sun's  eternal  rays 
Fresh  panegyrics  still  compose  ? 

While,  like  a  sun  that  shines  abroad, 
I  pour  my  raying  songs  around, 
The  beautiful  I  do  applaud. 
And  not  what 's  on  the  common  found. 

Let  other  bards  their  lyres  attone 

To  wars,  and  mosques,  and  fame  of  kings  ; 

To  roses,  love,  and  wine  alone 

My  fingers  strike  the  melting  strings. 

O  pure  Schaiff  !  how  fragrant  are 
Thy  verses  on  these  lovely  themes  ! 
Thy  songs  are  strains  without  a  jar, 
While  others'  best  are  painful  screams. 


XXIT.     FINAL   SATIRE   ON   THE   BAGDAD   SAGE. 

Wretched  Mirtsa  Jussuf !  all  your  sneers  I  despise  ; 
While  you  sulk,  with  gay  heart  through  the  world  I  am 

tripping : 
And  instead  of  returning  your  hatred  and  lies, 
Only  see,  how  this  beaker  of  wine  I  am  sipping ! 


234  SPECIMENS    OF 

Retribution  enough  is  inflicted  on  you, 

In  that  nothnig  below  your  fastidiousness  pleases ; 

While  for  me  springs  dehght  from  the  stars  and  the 

dew, 
From  the  birds  and  the  hills,  from  the  flowers  and  the 

breezes. 

Sprawling  Mirtsa  Jussuf  with  great  awkwardness  walks ; 
How  he  wrinkles  his  brow,  as  with  thought  it  were 

laden! 
And  with  all  who  pass  by  he  finds  fault  as  he  stalks, 
Because  not  as  he  goes  goes  each  man  and  each  maiden. 

So  the  ox,  as  he  rolls  with  unwieldiest  gait. 
And  his  voice  is  a  hoarse  and  detestable  bellow. 
Thinks  he   must  for  this  cause  the  sweet  nightingale 

hate,  — 
That  so  lightly  it  flies,  and  its  song  is  so  mellow ! 

XXV.     MIRTSA   SCHAFFI?    TO   HIS   WIFE. 

Of  Joseph  in  the  Egyptian  land, 
The  handsomest  of  mortals  brave, 
'T  was  said,  to  him  Jehovah's  hand 
One  half  of  all  earth's  beauty  gave. 

But  when  this  prince  at  last  was  dead, 
His  thrown-off  beauty  wandered  forth ; 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  235 

From  year  to  year  she  roamed  and  sped 
From  land  to  land  through  all  the  earth. 

For  this  command  had  been  decreed : 
"  Thou  shalt  thyself  nowhere  enthrone, 
Except  where  thou  shalt  find,  indeed, 
Kind  love  and  wisdom  both  in  one." 

At  many  doors  she  faintly  knocked 
Of  huts  and  temples  costliest : 
Each  one  for  her  was  quick  unlocked,  -~ 
In  none  of  them  she  stayed,  a  guest. 

But  when  she  came,  Hafisa  fair ! 
To  thee,  a  final  home  she  found, 
Where  sweetness  and  discretion  rare 
Were,  once  for  all,  together  bound. 

XXVI.    WISE   MEN   UNNOTICED,   WERE    THERE   NO   FOOLS. 

Shall  I  laugh  or  shall  I  wail  it,  — 
That  the  most  of  men  are  such  asses  ? 
Borrowed  wit,  how  they  retail  it ! 
A  fresh  thought  their  brains  never  passes. 

The  shrewd  Maker,  —  how  I  thank  him 
That  the  world  is  filled  so  with  ninnies ! 
Else  the  wise  man  had  none  to  rank  him 
O'er  the  rest,  and  fame  none  could  win  his. 


286  SPECIMENS    OF 


XXVII.      CLOSE   AT   HAND. 


The  wise  man  will  not  roam  afar 

For  what  at  home  his  finding  naught  can  hinder ; 

He  will  not  try  to  pluck  a  star 

To  kindle  with  its  light  a  piece  of  tinder. 

XXVIII.     MODEBATIOy. 

The  rose  who  doth  not  pick, 
Its  thorn  will  him  not  prick : 
To-day,  then,  be  content 
To  snuff  its  fragrant  scent ! 

XXIX.     LIFE    DEEPER   THAN   BOOKS. 

To  learn  the  best  experience  of  nations, 

Search  not  through  ancient  books,  in  dusty  heaps : 

By  far  the  choicest  of  all  revelations 

Is  that  which  from  the  nearest  fountain  leaps. 

XXX.     THE   UNEENEWABLE   HOUE. 

The  winter  bears  no  buds. 
The  summer  yields  no  ice : 
The  fire  which  young  hearts  floods 
The  old  man  feels  not  twice. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  237, 


THE    BEGGAR  S    REVENGE.     R. 


The  king's  proud  favorite  at  a  beggar  threw  a  stone : 
He  picked  it  up,  as  if  it  had  for  alms  been  thrown. 

He  bore  it  in  his  bosom  long  with  bitter  ache, 
And  sought  his  time  revenge  with  that  same  stone  to 
take. 

One  day  he  heard  a  street  mob's  hoarse  commingled 

cry: 
The  favorite  comes !  —  but  draws  no  more  the  admiring 

eye. 

He  rides  an  ass,  from  all  his  haughty  state  disgraced ; 
And  by  the  rabble's  mocking  gibes  his  way  is  traced. 

The  stone  from  out  his  bosom  swift  the  beggar  draws, 
And,  flinging  it  away,  exclaims ;  "  A  fool  I  was ! 

'T  is  madness  to  attack,  when  in  his  power,  your  foe, 
And  meanness  then  to  strike  when  he  has  fallen  low." 

ACTIVITY. 

Good  striving 

Brings  thriving. 
Better  a  dog  who  works, 
Than  a  lion  who  shirks. 


238  SPECIMENS    OF 

THE    DIVINE    gazer:    FROM    MAHMOUD. 

As  thy  beloved's  eyes  are  mirrored  in  tliine  eyes, 
Grod's  spirit,  painted  so,  within  thy  spirit  lies. 


the  lure  OF  pleasure,     r. 

A  fount-o'ershading  tree  stands  near  the  highway-side, 
And  many  a  good  fellow,  pausing  there,  has  died. 

For  in  the  fountain's  depths  a  dragon  lies  asleep : 
Sits  on  the  tree  a  bird,  his  constant  watch  to  keep. 

The  bird's  sweet  song   allures   the   unwary  wanderer 

near  : 
Then  sings  he  loud,  so  loud  the  dragon  wakes  to  hear. 

The  thirsty  traveller  drinks,  —  the  dragon  darts  aJoft,  — 
And  on  the  tree  the  fatal  bird  is  singing  soft. 


dangerous  interference. 

If  you  should  chance  to  see  two  dragons  mixed  in  fight, 
As  mediator  come  not  you  between  them ; 
For  they  may  make  a  peace  at  the  unwonted  sight. 
And  straightway  your  poor  form  divide  between  them. 


ORIKNTAL    POKTKY.  239 

CONDITIONS    OF    SAFETY.       H. 

Be  thou  a  poor  man  and  a  just, 
And  thou  mayst  live  without  alarm ; 
For  leave  the  good  man  Satan  must, 
The  poor  the  Sultan  will  not  harm. 

THE   BEST    OF    GOOD    "WORKS. 

"  Of  all  good  works  of  men,  which  is  the  best  ?  " 
A  young  man  once  a  prophet  thus  addressed. 
And  this  reply  the  prophet  on  him  pressed : 
"  From  strife  exempt,  good  works  together  chime, 
And  all  are  beautiful  each  in  its  time." 

TREACHEROUS    PAYMENT. 

Serve  not  thy  belly  with  such  zest : 
He  is  a  most  ungrateful  guest. 
Who  serves  him  most  and  best  at  first, 
He  finally  will  treat  the  worst. 

ASSIMILATION. 

The  wise  man  never  heard  a  joke 
But  living  wisdom  from  it  broke : 
The  fool  no  wisdom  ever  learned 
But  it  in  him  to  folly  turned. 


240  SPECIMENS    OF 

DEATH    AMONG    THE    GODS. 

Between  divine  and  human  life  what  is  the  odds  ? 

A  human  life  is  but  a  watch-tick  to  the  gods. 

Their  hour  has  many  ticks ;   their  day  has  many  an 

hour; 
And  many  days  fill  up  their  year's  enormous  dower. 
But  when  threescore  and  ten  of  those  large  years  a  god 
Has  told,  he  is  touched  by  death's  appropriating  rod. 
And  all  those  years  like  arrows  fly  in  heaven's  bowers, 
Because  in  bliss  unmixed  they  pass  more  swift  than 

ours ! ' 

WORLDLY    SUCCESS. 

Vulgar  souls  surpass  a  rare  one,  in  the  headlong  rush ; 
As  the  hard  and  worthless  stones  a  precious  pearl  will 
crush. 

THE    GOOD    OF    SUCCESSION. 

The  mighty  Khosru  whispered   once   to   his   beloved 

Shireen, 
"  K  stayed  the  crown  with  one,  it  were  a  prize  indeed, 

I  ween." 
Shireen  replied,  "  The  blessing  of  its  change  dost  thou 

not  see  ? 
Did  it  remain  for  aye  with  one,  it  ne'er  had  come  to 

thee?" 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  241 

THE   DEEPER   THOUGHT. 

Sankara  Atchareya  held  the  wise  man's  faith, 
That  naught  is  real  here,  but  empty  as  a  wraith. 
One  day  a  hostile  Brahmin  to  his  friends  observes, 
"  Drive  we  an  elephant  towards  him,  and  if  he  swerves, 
He  is  a  hypocrite  ;  if  not,  he  is  a  saint." 
Accordingly,  to  ride  him  down  they  made  a  feint. 
Sankara  fled  aside  at  once.     They  ask,  "  O  why 
Before  a  mere  illusion  did  you  stoop  to  fly  ?  " 
Sankara  says,  "  There  was  no  elephant,  no  flight ; 
The  whole  was  nothing  but  a  dream's  deceptive  sight/* 

BENEFICENT   DESIGN:    OR   NATURAL    THEOLOGY. 

The  cocoa-palm  leaves  infidels  without  excuse, 
For  nine  and  ninety  are  its  common  uses : 
In  hardened  carelessness  they  wait  a  hundredth  use 
Until  some  new  discovery  introduces ! 

PROUD    HUMILITY. 

In  proud  humility  a  pious  man  went  through  the  field ; 
The  ears  of  corn  were  bowing  in  the  wind,  as  if  they 

kneeled : 
He  struck  them  on  the  head,  and  modestly  began  to  say, 
"  Unto  the  Lord,  not  unto  me,  such  honors  should  you 

pay." 


242  specimens  of 

Mohammed's  opinion  of  poetry. 

Beneath  God's  throne  a  dazzling  treasure  lies, 
Whose  opening  key  is  but  the  poet's  tongue ; 
Without  that  key  the  wondrous  hoard's  supplies 
Could  ne'er  be  brought  on  earth  to  old  and  young. 

the  bad  poet:  from  dschamt. 

Two  poets  sat  to  eat  a  dish  of  burning  broth. 

Through  blistered  lips  one  cried,  by  agony  made  wroth : 

"'T  is  hotter  than  the  sulphur,  which,  when  you  are 

dead, 
The  fiends  in  deepest  hell  will  pour  upon  your  hea4." 
The  other  said  :  "  Such  fate  to  you  could  give  no  fright ; 
You  would  but  have  one  of  your  couplets  to  recite. 
To  chill,  throughout,  the  furnace  of  infernal  night. 
One  verse,  Hke  those  to  which  your  brain  has  given 

birth, 
If  uttered  in  the  realm  that  flames  beneath  the  earth, 
Or  written  on  the  gate  of  hell,  would,  in  a  trice. 
Put  out  the  fire,  and  turn  the  Devil's  blood  to  ice." 

moaseddin's  generosity. 

For  when  the  sea  of  Moaseddin's  gifts  began  to  swell, 
The  sun  itself  was  but  a  pearl,  the  sky  its  upper  shell. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  243 

COLOR    OF    WINE    AND    GLASS. 

Give  me,  fair  hoy !  the  wine  and  glass  : 
One  red,  the  other  white,  alas  ! 
Two  gems  from  out  one  coffer  rich, 
Love  both  has  painted  to  that  pitch : 
One  rosy  as  his  joy  in  blow. 
One  pale  as  his  despairing  woe. 


THE  SOUND  AND  THE  HEARER. 

Mewlana  Dschelaleddin  once  proclaimed 

That  music  was  the  noise  of  heaven's  gates  : 

A  foolish  man,  who  heard  this  speech,  exclaimed, 

"  So   harsh   the   heaven-doors   sound,   it    through   me 

grates." 
Mewlana  Dschelaleddin  straight  replied, 
"  I  hear  those  gates  on  opening  hinges  ride, 
But  you,  when  on  the  closing  hinge  they  gride." 

MATHEMATICAL    LOVE. 

My  heart 's  a  point,  round  which,  in  fixed  curves  of 

dawn. 
The  beauty  of  the  fair  one  's  as  a  circle  drawn : 
Desire's  divided  pains  are  living  radii. 
Thick  stretching  from  the  centre  to  periphery. 


244  SPECIMENS    OF 

THE    TIMOROUS    GIANT. 

The  sun  aslant  and  low  in  heaven  hung 
The  pigmy  a  stupendous  shadow  flung ; 
A  giant  sat  upon  the  mountain's  head, 
Beheld  the  shadow,  and  in  terror  fled ! 


THE    NIGHT   VISIT. 

I  sat  beside  a  taper's  flame  ; 
The  Loved  One  unexpected  came. 
I  thought  the  time  to  sunrise  drew : 
It  seemed  my  taper  thought  so  too ;  -— 
The  breezy  light  she  shed  about 
Made  it  grow  dim,  and  flicker  out. 

SCHANFERI,    OR    THE    YENGEANCE-OATH   FULFILLED. 

Schanfeii,  the  peerless  runner  who  outstrips  the  swiftest 

steed, 
Whom  an  arrow  whizzing  from  the  bow-string  scarcely 

can  outspeed, 

Holding  towards  the  tribe  Salaman  rancorous  and 
deadly  hate. 

Swore  to  kill  a  hundred  of  them  his  revenge  to  sa- 
tiate. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  245 

Nine-and-ninety  he  has  slaughtered ;  for  the  hundred 
but  one  more : 

Schanferi,  himself,  outmatched,  is  slain  within  the  en- 
tered door. 

As  his  severed  head  from  off  his  body  rolled  upon  the 

hearth. 
One,  of  tribe  Salaman,  kicked  it  on  a  pile  of  ord'rous 

earth. 

"  Schanferi,  the  peerless  runner,  r —  death  has  overtaken 

him. 
Ere  he  could  fulfil  his  vow  and  heap  his  hundred  to  the 

brim." 

Swiftly,  from  the  skull  he  kicked,  a  splinter  like  a  dag- 
ger flew, 

Smote  the  mocker  dead,  and  thus  the  hundredth  fated 
victim  slew ! 


SLEEPLESS    LOVER   AND    TURTLE-DOVE. 

0  Turtle-dove  !  that  keepest  me  awake, 

Thy  breast  and  mine  with  love's  deep  longings  ache. 

Thy  woe  is  loud,  mine  silent  in  the  night : 

But  tears,  wanting  to  thee,  bedim  my  sight. 

Love's  treasure  thus  is  halved  between  us  twain  : 

To  thee  the  plaints,  to  me  the  tears  remain. 


246  SPECIMENS    OF 

THE    POET    AND    ALEXANDER.      E. 

To  Alexander  came  a  man  in  garb  with  tattered  fold, 
Bringing   a   poem    splendidly   adorned    with    silk   and 
gold. 

The  king  demands :  "  Why  hast  thou  not  unto  thy  body 

lent 
Some  of  the  pains   upon  this   manuscript  so  largely 

spent?" 

The  poet  says :  "  The  law  of  labor  is,  that  each  must 

drive 
At  his  appropriate  trade,  if  he  would  honor  it  and  thrive. 

It  is  my  work  majestic  thoughts  to  clothe  in  fit  ar- 
ray ; 

But  honor's  robes  —  the  king  knows  how  to  cut  and 
give  away. 

I  here  have  set  thee  forth  in  lasting  praise  and  fame 

enrolled, 
And  left  it  unto  thee  for  this  to  have  me  dressed  in 

gold." 

Amidst  his  loud-applauding  courtiers,  Alexander  bade 
The  bard  at  once  in  gold-embroidered  garments  to  be 
clad! 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  247 

THE    IDEAL    PHILOSOPHY  :   FROM   MAHMOUD. 

Nothing  is  the  mirror,  and  the  world  the  image  in  it : 
God  the  shower  is,  who  shows  the  vision  every  minute. 


THE   AVOIDED    CLUMP    OF   PALMS.     R. 

On  yonder  hill,  where  stand  those  seven  tall  palms, 

once  raged 
A  battle  as  terrific  as  was  ever  waged. 

The  world's  two  dreadest  monsters,  frights  to  all  that 

live. 
We  saw  unto  each  other  there  a  taming  give. 

One  monster  by  the  other  one  was  crushed  amain, 
And  the  survivor  by  the  dead  one  then  was  slain. 

Long  time  those  palm-trees  to  approach  we  did  not 

dare : 
In  vain  from  far  their  precious  fruits  we  saw  them  bear. 

Because  the  thicket  near  a  tiger  for  his  lair 
Had  taken,  and  he  howled,  bloodthirsty,  there. 

When  in  the  morning  looked  those  palms  alluringly, 
The  grumbling  tiger  made  each  frightened  comer  flee. 


248  SPECIMENS    OF 

But  once,  as  we  were  looking  towards  those  palms  at 

dawn, 
We  saw  a  branch  down  from  the  highest  summit  drawn. 

The  branch,  now  up,  now  down,  with  strangest  motions 

■  went. 
As  in  a  serpent's  coils  it  here  and  there  was  bent. 

Upon  those  twistings  gazing,  quite  a  space  it  takes 
For  us  to  recognize  the  giant  queen  of  snakes : 

As  thick  as  a  large  man,  and  sixty  feet  in  length, 
We  calculated,  and  enormous  was  her  strength. 

Her  tail  aloft  was  wreathed  around  the  palm-tree's  top ; 
Her  jaws  were  near  the  ground,  upon  her  prey  to  pop. 

Wide  open  were  they  for  the  helpless  little  beasts 
By  fate  allotted  for  this  dreadful  huntress'  feasts. 

She  seemed  —  we  from  the  tiger's  wrathful  growl  could 

hear  — 
To  intrude  upon  his  beat,  and  in  his  lair  to  peer. 

Then  stepped  he  out  to  battle,  dauntless  champion  like  : 
The  mighty  serpent  spired  in  angry  act  to  strike. 

And  as  he  sprang  to  clutch  beneath  her  haughty  throat, 
She  downward  shot  her  head,  and  him  from  under  smote. 


OKIENTAL    POETRY.  249 

He  shrank  convulsive,  as  she  with  a  single  bite 

A  great  piece  from  his  bright  striped  belly  tore  outright. 

She  holds  him  fast,  and  from  the  palm  all  slowly  swims 
Fold  after  fold,  to  let  her  lace  about  his  limbs. 

Her  fangs  soon  choke  his  frightful  yell  with  dripping 

clots, 
And  soon  compressed  him  breathless  have  her  rigid 

knots. 

She  is  too  weak  to  crunch  the  life  left  in  his  body  lithe ; 
And  so,  for  aid,  she  towards  the  palm  begins  to  writhe. 

Against  the  trunk  she  draws  the  tiger,  and  a  crack 

Is  heard,  as  break  the  bones  which  form  his  lordly  back. 

He  lies  upon  the  ground ;  and  she,  exhausted,  heaves 
Herself  up  in  the  palms,  to  rest  amidst  their  leaves. 

On  that  the  first  day  of  the  fight  we  stood  in  fear, 
A  few  and  far :  for  who  would  dare  to  venture  near  ? 

The  second  day  the  number  of  spectators  grew ; 
Their  courage  rose,  and  nearer  to  the  scene  they  drew. 

We  saw  her  through  the  bushes,  but  we  did  not  feel 
Disposed  to  trouble  her,  preparing  for  her  meal. 


250  SrECTMENS    OF    • 

She,  with  a  yellow  drool,  red  lumps  has  pasted  thick 
Of  the  repulsive  carcass ;  in  her  throat  they  stick. 

This  gorging  most  obscene  the  whole  day  occupied, 
But  when  we  left  at  night,  she  seemed  quite  satisfied. 

The  third  morning  an  eager  crowd  came  streaming  fast. 
Of  women,  children,  and  old  men.    All  fear  had  passed. 

There   lay   the    victress,   swoln   immensely,   and   half 

dead : 
The  triumph-feast  with  sleep  her  glutted  stomach  fed. 

She  safely  killed  the  tiger,  and  then  took  her  rest ; 
But  such  a  fearful  meal  no  creature  could  digest. 

The  people  rushed  upon  her  with  swift  blow  and  shout, 
And  in  ten  thousand  fritters  scattered  her  about. 

Then  quick  they  went,  delivered  from  their  deep  alarms. 
And  plucked    the  fruit  from  off  those  long-forbidden 
palms. 

MOHIJEDDIN   AT    THE    RUINS    OF    SEHRA. 

The  place  where  courts  and  hosts  once  glittered  thick. 
Is  now  a  waste  which  makes  one  sorrow-sick. 
On  all  sides  yesterday  were  heard  gay  songs ; 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  251 

To-day  are  hushed  the  migratory  throngs. 

One  bird  the  echoes  of  a  broken  heart 

Sang,  sadly  as  if  soul  from  frame  would  part. 

I  said,  "  What  piteous  hap  dost  thou  grieve  o'er  ?  " 

He  said,  "  The  time  that  will  come  back  no  more ! " 


AN   ARAB   ADVENTURE.     R. 

Teabbata  Scherran,  in  time  of  war, 
A  spy,  went  forth,  as  eve  was  growing  dunner ; 
His  friend,  Amru  Ben  Barrak,  with  him  went, 
And  so  did  Schanferi,  the  matchless  runner. 

They  paused  about  the  middle  of  the  night, 
A-near  a  fountain  where  a  palm-grove  darkled, 
Like  hot  and  panting  deer,  their  thirst  to  slake : 
The  silent  moonbeams  on  the  water  sparkled. 

Teabbata  Scherran,  the  doughty,  spake  : 
"  I  hear  of  some  man's  heart  the  muffled  working ; 
It  is,  I  think,  some  anxious  foeman's  heart. 
Who,  hidden  here,  for  us  in  arms  is  lurking." 

They  said :  "  The  only  sound  that  we  can  hear 
Is  clearly  but  the  gurgling  fountain's  rustle : 
If  thou  discern'st  the  blows  of  any  heart. 
It  doubtless  is  thine  own  faint  bosom's  bustle." 


252  SPECIJUENS    OP 

He  takes  a  hand  of  each  companion  then, 
And  both  upon  his  naked  bosom  places, 
Crying,  "  The  steady  strokes  that  beat  there,  feel, 
And  say  if  me  a  timid  heart  disgraces." 

"  Indeed,  thy  heart  makes  stroke  with  even  pulse, 
Like  his  who  is  entirely  free  from  terror ; 
But  in  such  heat  the  stoutest  heart  might  thump - 
Come,  let  us  drink ;  we  frankly  own  our  error." 

Ben  Barrak  stooped  him  down,  the  first,  and  drank. 
His  hand  meanwhile  his  trusty  sword-hilt  feeling. 
Refreshed,  then  rose  he  up,  and  said,  aloud : 
"  No  secret  foe  yon  palm-clump  is  concealing ; 

But  if  there  be  a  foe,  and  he  be  near. 

Then  let  him  snort ! "  said  Barrak,  and  loud  laughed  he. 

The  runner,  Schanferi,  descended  next, 

And  while  he  moved,  the  cooling  water  quaffed  he. 

The  runner,  likewise,  soon  returned,  but  said, 
In  Barrak's  ear,  "  Not  where  that  spring  aspireth, 
But  yonder,  lies  the  foe ;  and  not  Amru, 
It  is  Teabbata  that  he  desireth." 

They  say,  "Now /ear  has  saturated  all 
The  burning  nerves  through  which  thirst   lately  fried 
thea." 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  253 

He  cries,  "  I  am  as  hotly  parched  as  you ; 
Behold  ye  now  how  much  you  have  belied  me." 

At  once  the  bold  Scherran  throws  down  his  sword, 
No  fibre  of  his  dauntless  courage  shrinking. 
And  helpless  lies  upon  the  edge,  and  drinks. 
With  slow-drawn  gulps,  just  like  a  wild  bull  drinking. 

The  ambushed  foes  dare  not  rush  forth  in  front. 
To  seize  the  drinking  bullock  open-handed ; 
But  from  behind  they  fling  around  his  arms 
A  netted  rope,  strong-woven,  many-stranded. 

"  Ben  Barrak ! "  calls  Teabbata,  "  come  too ; 

For  thou  hast  brought  me  to  this  plight  unhandsome : 

Thou,  Schanferi,  run  back  and  tell  the  Sheik 

To  haste  with  bloody  sword  and  win  our  ransom ! " 

THE    ESCAPING   BIRD.     R. 

Where,  in  the  sacred  North,  the  glittering  mountains 

rise. 
There  hves  a  bird  which  wears  a  changing  coat  of  dyes. 

He  is  green  in  Spring,  in  Summer  has  a  yellow  tint, 
In  Autumn  red,  goes  white  through  Winter's  fleecy 
mint. 


254  SPECIMENS    OF 

What  for  ?    In  order  that  in  plumes  of  fitted  hue 
He  through  the  changing  seasons  may  his  course  pur- 
sue,— 

Spring's  herbage,  Summer's  grain,  Fall's  leaves,  and 

Winter's  snow : 
The  cause  is  not  mere  pleasure,  it  is  likewise  woe ! 

He  thus  escapes  the  harm  the  sportsman's  glance  por- 
tends ; 
Because  his  raiment  always  with  the  landscape  blends. 

He  is  blest  who  has  his  life  in  such  a  garb  infurled, 
And  so  can  lose  himself  unnoticed  in  the  world. 


INDESTRUCTIBLE    FRIENDSHIP:    FROM   DSCHAMY. 

My  bosom's  dazzling  lamps  were  lighted  at  my  friend ; 
My  bosom's  far-seen  lamps  no  smoke  nor  ashes  leave ; 
From  him  and  me  the  chain  of  friendship  naught  can 

rend ;  — 
Of  its  soft  rings  who  can  the  ring-dove's  neck  bereave  ? 


THE    HERETIC    BREAST. 

The  two-and-seventy  sects  on  earth  caressed, 
Collective  dwell  in  every  human  breast. 


oriental  poetry.  255 

sajib's  escape  from  the  great  shipwreck. 

Life-embarked,  out  at  sea,  'mid  the  wave-tumbling  roar, 
The  poor  ship  of  my  body  went  down  to  the  floor ; 
But  I  broke,  at  the  bottom  of  death,  through  a  door, 
And,  from  sinking,  began  for  ever  to  soar. 

ARAB    hospitality. 

Lift  up,  O  slave  !  the  torch  on  high. 
That  any  traveller  may  spy. 
If  thou  a  guest  dost  bring  to  me, 
I  will  that  instant  make  thee  free. 

The  ship  of  the  moon  through  the  air-ocean  swam  with- 
out traces ; 

The  glimmering  stars  not  a  ray  shed  beyond  their  own 
faces. 

I  looked  to  the  sky's  azure  tent,  where  Orion  already 
Stood  watching  by  night,  and  his    sword   in   its  belt 
glittered  steady. 

So  I  in  the  door  of  my  house  stood,  as  night  round  me 

darkened, 
And  heard  a  sole  traveller's  foot,  with  such  sharpness 

I  hearkened. 


256  SPECIMENS    OF 

It  was   not   the   lion's  proud   tread,  his   poor   enemy 

crushing : 
It  was  not  the  step  of  the  roe,  the  dewed  grass  lightly 

brushing. 


It  was  not  the  robber's  sly  creep,  nor  a  swain  from 

sleep  broken : 
It   was   the   slow,   faltering  step,  of  a   stranger   sure 

token. 

I  thrust  my  good  sword  in  its  sheath,  waved  a  brand 

brightly  burning, 
To  show  that  a  sheltering  roof  for  a  guest  was  here 

yearning. 

THE    POET    SAJIB. 

As  pen  sweet  Sajib  takes  the  beak  of  nightingale  ; 
The   fragrant   page   on   which  he   writes  is   rose-leaf 

pale. 
For  such  a  pen  and  page  what  fitting  ink  appears  ? 
Ah !  Sajib's  ink  is  fiery  wine  and  blinding  tears. 

THE    THOUGHT-JEWEL. 

The  wondrous  gem  of  thought  Tschintamani  is  named  5 
Who  knows  it  not  is  to  be  pitied,  —  to  be  blamed. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  257 

Who  owns  this  stone  can  each  conception  realize, 
Fulfil  all  dreams  that  in  his  yearning  bosom  rise. 

Who  bears  it  in  his  soul  has  wish-fulfilling  power : 
Who  lays  it  on   his  brow,  his   mind   is  cleared   that 
hour. 

Through  his  bright,  deepening  eye  its  owner  it  betrays. 
And  through  the  finer  wit  that  in  his  talking  plays. 

Hast  thou  that  gem  ?     Let  no  one  snatch  it  firom  thy 

grasp, 
And  thou  hast  all  that  mightiest  monarch's  crown  can 

clasp. 

mtjsshd's  praise  op  the  camel. 

With  strength  and  patience  all  his  grievous  loads  are 

borne, 
And  from  the  world's  rose-bed  he  only  asks  a  thorn. 

THE   TWO   rulers. 

While  the  great  generations  depart, 
And  full  ages  and  firmaments  roll, 
Mighty  love  is  the  lord  of  the  heart, 
And  pure  truth  the  bright  king  of  the  souL 


258  SPECIMENS    OF 

SUFISM  defined:  from  husseiri. 

The  true  Sufi  is  he  whose  lofty  strife 
The  most  essential  essence  has  obtained, 
And  through  destruction  of  his  mere  self  s  life 
An  indestructible  existence  gained.  , 

The  true  Sufi  is  he  alone,  I  say, 
Who  what  he  has  within  his  head  lays  down, 
Gives  what  "he  has  within  his  hand  away. 
And  takes  alike  time's  fickle  smile  and  frown. 

THE    MADNESS    OF   PIETY. 

Let  the  Loved  One  but  smile  on  this  poor  heart  of 

mine, 
I  will  sell  the  two  worlds  for  one  drop  of  his  wine. 

TRUTH    OUT    OF    CONVULSION  :    FROM   DEWLETSCHAH. 

Whene'er  the  sea  upheaves  its  foaming  hosts, 
Pearl  after  pearl  it  tosses  on  the  coasts. 

THE    GREAT   FLOWER-VASE. 

With   blooming    splendors  *  God    has    sown   creation's 

flower-bed. 
And  in  the  flower-cup  of  space  has  hung  it  overhead. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  259 

SELF-UNIVERSALIZATION. 

The  true  jouraey  from  "me"  to  "  God"  is  then  com- 
pletely made, 

When  "me"  is  free  from  "thee,"  as  fire  is  from  tha 
smoke's  foul  shade. 

THE    TOILING   HERO. 

The  earnest  aspirant  is  he  who  knows 
No  aim  besides  the  throne  of  God,  and,  till 
He  reaches  that,  allows  of  no  repose, 
And  no  companion  has  on  plain  or  hill. 

THE    GOAL    AT    THE   BARRIER. 

I  hotly  strove  to  reach  the  race-course  goal, 
When  seeking  God  beyond  myself  to  find. 
But  now  I  see,  since  He  was  in  my  soul, 
The  first  impatient  step  left  Him  behind. 

THE    HUMBLE    SUPPLIANT. 

I  heard  a  camel-driver  in  the  waste   thus  sing  and 

groan : 
"  I  weep,  but  you  know  not  the  reason  why  my  tears 

are  spent. 


260  SPECIMENS.  OP 

I  weep  from  a  depressing  fear  that  you  will  strike  your 

tent, 
And,  swift  departing,   leave  me  in   this  desert-world 

alone." 


BEAUTY   AND    LOVE:   FROM   MEWLANA    DSCHAMY. 

Before  eternity  to  time  had  shrunken, 

The  Friend  deep  in  his  glorious  self  was  sunken. 

Around  his  charms  a  firm-bound  girdle  hovered : 
No  one  the  lonely  path  to  him  discovered. 

A  mirror  held  he  to  each  wondrous  feature, 
But  shared  the  vision's  bhss  with  not  a  creature. 

In  cradling  Naught's  abyss  alone  he  rocked  him, 
No  playmate's  face  or  gambols  sportive  mocked  him. 

Then  rose  he  up  —  swift  vanished  all  resistance  — 
And  gave  the  boundless  universe  existence. 

Now  Beauty,  sun-clear,  from  his  right  side  beameth ; 
Love,  moon-like,  quickly  from  his  left  side  gleameth. 

When  Beauty's  flame  lights  up  the  cheek's  red  roses, 
Ix>ve  fans  a  fire  from  which  no  heart  reposes. 


Oriental  rOEiRr.  261 

Between  them  glows  a  league  which  forms  no  cinder, 
But  from  all  Beauty's  food  creates  Love's  tinder. 

When  Beauty  'midst  her  snaring  ringlets  lieth, 
Then  Love  the  heart  within  those  fair  locks  tieth. 

A  nest  is  Beauty,  Love  the  brooding  linnet : 
A  mine  is  Beauty,  Love  the  diamond  in  it. 

From  God's  two  sides  they  came,  twin  emanation. 
To  chase  and  woo  each  other  through  creation. 

But  in  each  atom's  point,  both,  clasping,  enter, 
And  constitute  all  being's  blissful  centre. 


THE    BATTLE    OP    SUNRISE. 

The  red  dawning  proclaims  a  victorious  fight ; 
From   the    sword  of  the   sun  flows  the  blood   of  the 
night. 

DAY   AND    NIGHT. 

The  sun  and  moon,  which  light  by  day  and  night  the 

earth  o'er  all  its  lands. 
Are  but  two  lanterns  which  the  Day  and  Night  bear, 

burning,  in  their  hands. 


262  SPECIMENS    OF 

The  sun  and  moon  are  weights  within  the  clock  of  God's 

tremendous  might ; 
One  rises  and  the  other  sinks  alternate  with  the  Day 

and  Night ' 

The  sun  and  moon  are  tables  twain,  with  gleaming  gold 

and  silver  paved, 
On  which,  as  types  of  praise,  mysterious  Day  and  Night 

are  broadly  graved. 

The  sun  and  moon  are  tapers,  raised  in  front,  to  lend 

some  guiding  sight 
To  us  bewildered  moths,  whom  Day  and  Night  drive 

round  the  endless  Light. 

The  sun  and  moon  are  doors  to   rooms  between  the 

eager-gazing  globes. 
Wherein  the  Day  and  Night  for  ever  interchange  their 

blending  robes. 

THE    PARTING   LOVERS:   FROM   THE    CHINESE. 

She  says,  The  cock  crows,  hark ! 
He  says.  No,  still 't  is  dark. 

She  says.  The  dawn  grows  bright. 
He  says,  O  no,  my  Light ! 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  263 

She  says,  vStand  up,  and  say, 
Gets  not  the  heaven  gray  ? 

He  says.  The  morning  star 
CHmbs  the  horizon's  bar. 

She  says.  Then  quick  depart : 
Alas  !  you  must  now  start. 

But  give  the  cock  a  blow, 
Who  did  begin  our  woe  ! 

THE    TWO    TEMPLES.      R. 

There  was  a  people  once,  by  wisest  counsels  steered, 
Who  temples  twain  to  Virtue  and  to  Honor  reared. 

Excepting  through  the  first,  —  they  stood  so,  wall  to 

wall, — 
No  man  within  the  second  one  could  get  at  all. 

As  forecourt  unto  Honor's  temple  Virtue's  stood. 
"Through  merit   praise   is    reached,"  —  such  was  the 
moral  good. 

An  age  did  those  two  temples  thus  together  stand, 
And  all  was  noble-toned  and  prosperous  in  the  land. 

But  long  ago  did  Virtue's  solemn  temple  fall ; 
And  Honor's  shrine,  profaned,  is  open  now  to  all. 


264  SPECIMENS    OF 

INSTANTANEOUS    SALVATION. 

If  any  fiend  of  hell,  laid  in  a  chest  of  molten  steel, 
Subdues  his   will,  and  with  a  humble   mind  on   God 

reposes, 
His  penal  chest,  the  hottest  berth  that  sense-filled  soul 

can  feel. 
Becomes  at  once  a  most  delicious   bed  of  breathing 

roses.* 


THE    WINE-SELLER  :     FROM    MAHMOUD    FERJUMENDI. 

The  Loved  One  bears  the  cup,  and  sells  annihilation : 
Who  buys  his  fire  ecstatic,  quaffs  illumination. 

The  giant  Sun  is  dizzy,  going  and  returning, 

So  swiftly,  up  and  down,  for  one  poor  droplet  burning. 

Even  Wisdom's  self  in  drunkenness  profound  is  sunken : 
Both  earth  and  heaven  are  drunk,  and  all  the  angels 
drunken. 

The  wine-house  is  the  world,  and  all  things  in  it  beak- 
ers : 
The  Friend  each  goblet  holds,  and  we  are  eager  seekers. 

Within  the  cup,  upon  the  threshold,  heaven  lieth : 
The  nest  is  there  towards  which  the  soul  for  ever  flieth. 


ORIENTAL   POETRY.  265 

The  angels,  in  carousal  high,  their  tankards  clinking. 
Pour  out  from  heaven  on  the  earth  their  lees  of  drink- 
ing. 

They  drank  pure  wine  themselves,  and  joyously  they 

shouted, 
"When  from   the  dregs   that  fell  on  earth   fair  Eden 

sprouted. 

In  sin  and  sorrow  here  long  time  have  I  been  roaming : 
A  sea  of  tears  I  Ve  shed  is  wide  around  me  foaming, 

And  every  tear  's  a  drop  of  blood.     A  poor  wayfarer, 
I  longingly  await  the  lovely  goblet-bearer. 

He  comes,  —  a  flood  of  molten  music  round  him  gush- 
ing;  — 

He  comes,  —  all  veils  are  raised,  the  universe  lies  blush- 
ing. 

I   snatch   the   cup,   and,   lipless,   quaff  the   godhead's 

liquor, 
As  into  unity  of  bliss  the  self-lights  flicker. 


A   "WHITE    ELEPHANT. 

The  rare  white  elephant  is  widely  worshipped  in  Siam, 
As  a  fit  representative  of  the  unseen  I  Am. 


266  SPECIMENS    OF 

THE    THREE    CHINESE    SECTS. 

The  Buddhist  priests  declare  their  Fo  in  the  abyss  to 

be. 
Say  Lao's   followers,  "  Paradise   lies  in   the   Eastern 

Sea." 
But  great  Confucius'  pupils  look  on  real  things  around  ; 
Before  their  eyes  the  airs  of  spring,  fresh-blowing,  brush 

the  ground. 

FOUR   FRAGMENTS    FROM    DSCHELALEDDIN    RUMI. 

O  renowned  Dschelaleddin  Rumi !  thy  so  deep-lighted 

brain 
Was   of    mysteries,    lovely   and    wild,    an    unlimited 

main. 
Whereon  sailed  the  full  fleet  of  all  poetry's  beautiful 

ships. 
A  pearl-fount  was  thy  tongue,  overflowing  the  rim  of 

thy  lips. 

I.  THE  CREATION  AND  THE  CEEATOE. 

The  whole  material  universe  is  but  a  small  cupful  of 

force, 
Dipped  out  from  the   unfathomable   spring   of  God's 

dynamic  source. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  267 

II.     SIJFISTIC   THEOSOPHY. 

Whene'er  I  love  a  slave,  cries  God  from  being's  highest 

peaks, 
I  do  become  his  eye,  ear,  mouth,  his  search  and  what 

he  seeks : 
And  thus  it  is  through  me  alone  that  he  perceives  and 

speaks. 

III.     THE    LAW   OP   INSIGHT. 

To  critic  cold  and  sly  God  never  yet  appeared ; 
No  riddle  ever  was  by  logic  solved  and  cleared : 
It  takes  a  pure  and  humble  heart  the  Lord  to  see, 
And  free-winged  wit  to  soar  through  mystery. 

IV.     THE   HAUNT    OF  WISDOM.    • 

Seek  truth  from  thought,  and  not  from  mouldy  books, 

O  fool ! 
Look  in  the  sky  to  find  the  moon,  not  in  the  pool. 

PRESCRIPTION   FOR   A   REPULSIVE   HOUSE. 

That   your   house   is   unfriendly,  you  say,  my  young 

friend ! 
And  to  change  it,  you  think  still  of  ways  without  end. 
Only  bring  you  a  dear  friendly  wife  to  that  place. 
And  you  friendliness  then  in  all  corners  shall  trace. 


268  SPECIMENS   OF 

THE    GREATEST    GILDER. 

True  poetry  is  gold  ;  and  one  who  is  well  skilled, 
With  little  of  that  metal  pure  both  worlds  may  gild. 


THE    RICH    MEN   AND    THE    "WISE    MEN.     R. 

A  wise  man  by  a  rich  man  once  was  with  some  shrewd- 
ness asked : 

"  How  happens  it  that  wise  men  oft  are  seen  at  rich 
men's  doors, 

"While  ne'er  at  wise  men's  doors  rich  men  are  seen, 
barefaced  or  masked  ?  " 

The  wise  man  through  the  rich  man's  soul  this  piercing 
answer  pours : 

"  It  is  because  the  wise  men  know  that  they  of  wealth 
have  need, 

"While  the  rich  men  of  wisdom's  use  know  not.  'T  is 
sad  indeed ! " 


INVERSION    OF    TRUTH.     R. 

"What  use  the  preacher's  truth  and  earnest  exhortation  ? 
The  hearer  makes  thereof  inverted  application. 

A  miser  listened  once  to  a  discourse  most  moving. 
The  habit  of  unstinted  charity  approving. 


OKIENTAL   POETRY.  269 

He  said :  "  I  never  was  before  so  much  affected : 
How  beautiful  is  charity,  when  well  directed ! 

So  clear  and  noble  is  the  duty  of  almsgiving, 
At  once  1 11  go  and  beg,  as  sure  as  I  am  living." 

THE   BIRTH    OP   VENUS. 

The  sweet  Goddess  of  Love  leaves  the  sea,  with  be- 
diamonded  locks : 

Though  it  not  as  the  cradle  of  Form,  but  Deformity, 
rocks  ; 

In  its  caverns  profound,  horrid  monsters  all  prowlingly 
roam, 

While  the  fair  Queen  of  Beauty  is  bom  from  its  glit- 
tering foam. 

CHARACTER   MORE    THAN    INSTRUCTION. 

Doctrines  didactic,  by  most  wise  advices  backed. 
Can  really  do  no  good,  if  nature  doth  not  act. 

They  're  like  the  recipe  to  cure  the  bites  of  snakes, 
Which   from  a  wandering  quack  an   ignorant   person 
takes. 

Of  all   the   snakes  that    bite,   not   each   is   poisonous 

found  : 
A  little  toad  is  quickly  laid  upon  the  wound. 


270  SPECIMENS    OF 

Innocuous  was  the  bite,  unvenomed  was  the  tooth : 
Yet  if  the  wound  be  healed,  it  was  the  toad  forsooth  ! 


MAN   AND    WOMAN.      R. 

From  mere  dead  earth  was   man   created,  hard  and 

cloddy ; 
But   woman   afterwards   was    made   from   man's   live 

body. 

And  thus  arises  the  distinction  of  the  sexes, 

A  question  which  so  many  empty  heads  still  vexes. 

The  man  is,  as  a  first  creation,  genuiner : 
The  woman  is  the  clearer,  softer,  and  diviner. 

For  he  was  from  the  inorganic  dirt  unfolded ; 
But  she  came  forth  from  clay  which  life  before  had 
moulded. 


FRUITLESS    remorse:   FROM   FIRDOUSI. 

When  cruel  deeds  are  done,  in  vain  relents 
The  doer's  heart,  and  mournfully  repents. 
So  when  a  fire  has  raged,  the  smokes  that  rise 
In  useless  lamentation  drape  the  skies. 


oriental  poetry.  271 

god's  boy-lover:  or,  the  mystic's  suicide. 

FROM   FERIDEDDIN  ATTAR. 

There  was  a  sailor  once,  in  many  harbors  hailed. 
Who  full  a  thousand  times  had  o'er  the  ocean  sailed. 
He  had  a  boy,  majestic  as  the  sun  at  noon. 
And  lovely  as  at  evening  is  the  cloud-poised  moon. 
His  cheek  was  rosy  red,  and  heavenly  blue  his  eye ; 
So  straight  his  shape,  the  cypress  could  not  with  him 

vie. 
The  father  was  a  pious  man  in  every  way, 
The  blameless  youth  pure  as  a  breath  of  breaking  day. 
At  last  the  father  must  another  voyage  make. 
And  will  from  fervent  love  his  darling  with  him  take. 
As  to  the   strand   they  come,  the  crew  are  weeping 

there ; 
For  each  himself  from  brothers,  parents,  friends,  must 

tear. 
They  go,  bidding  their  loves  adieu,  from  door  to  door : 
And  in  the  resurrection-day  they  '11  meet  once  more. 
"  Be  quick,"  a  sailor  loudly  cries,  "  and  ready  make,  — 
Behold,  in  th'  east,  propitious  breezes  for  us  wake." 
Now  each  one's  farewell  business  closes  in  a  trice. 
And  with  huzzas  they  leap  on  deck  as  brisk  as  mice. 
The  waves  the  vessel  rock  upon  the  cradling  deep. 
The  shrieking  passengers  into  the  corners  creep. 


272  SPECIMENS    OF 

The  father  and  his  son  too  step  aboard  apace, 

And  from  the  deafening  crowd  and  clamor  reach  their 

place. 
The*  sail  is  spread ;  the  ship  the  even  billows  rides, 
As  through  the  unimpeding  air  an  arrow  glides. 
The  youth  says :  "  Father,  why  didst  thou  exchange  our 

life 
Of  beauteous  peace,  to  face  the  wrathful  ocean's  strife  ? 
No  house  is  on  the  waves,  no  palace  on  the  sea : 
Come  back,  and  on  the  flood  again  I  will  not  be," 
Then  says  the  father  :  "  All  the  world,  my  child,  behold, 
Driven  right  and  left,  and  near  and  far,  by  lust  of  gold. 
'T  is  sweet  to  sail  the  sea,  for  when  the  danger 's  o'er, 
Great  wealth  and  honor  is  the  fruit  the  danger  bore." 
To  him  the  boy :  "  Father,  no  prize  this  brings,  me- 

thinks  ; 
For  fame  or  pleasure  thus  won  soon  to  nothing  "sinks. 
Father,  alas  !  thy  vain  discourse  has  given  me  pain  ; 
O  let  me  leave  the  sea,  and  go  on  shore  again ! " 
EepHes  the  father  :  "  Dearest  boy,  give  me  thy  trust : 
Compared  with  thee,  my  gold  and  silver  are  but  dust. 
My  child,  where'er  I  look,  there  is  of  thee  some  trace ; 
The  earth,  moon,  sun,  and  sky  are  mirrors  of  thy  face. 
'T  is  but  from  love  for  thee  that  I  the  ocean  plough : 
Shouldst  thou  go  hence,  O  son  !  my  hfe  would  fail  me 

now." 
"  Dear  father,  thou  know'st  not  the  mystery  aright : 


ORIENTAL  rOETRY.  273 

Let  me  reveal  to  thee  the  Absolute's  own  light. 

Know,  father,  in  the  heart  I  dwell  of  the  Alone : 

Simurg  am  1,  the  mountain  Infinite  my  throne. 

A  revelation  saw  I  from  the  flood  upshoot, 

Saw  rise  from  th'  sea  an  image  of  the  Absolute." 

"  Dear  soul ! "  then  said  the  father,  "  cease  from  such 

discourse : 
Before  an  old  man  boastest  thou  thy  wisdom's  source  ? 

0  infant !  with  the  shell  of  Law  be  thou  content : 
Truth  absolute  is  not  as  sport  to  children  sent." 

"  Father,"  replies  the  youth,  "  my  eye  towards  home  is 
turned ; 

1  see  the  way  for  which  my  heart  has  ever  yearned. 
The  sea 's  a  symbol  how  one  must  destroy  self  s  root : 
Upon  the  inmost  selfhood  now  exults  my  foot. 

Love  waves  a  flaming  torch,  and  goes  as  guide  before. 
Reason  begone !  who  follows  Love  needs  thee  no  more. 
I  see  but  One,  and  quickly  fling  the  rest  behind ; 
His  love's  bright  eye  alone  I  seek  to  find." 
In  rage  the  father  cries :  "  Silence  this  instant  keep, 
Pert  babbler  !  ere  I  throw  thee  m  the  yawning  deep. 
My  precious  gem,  in  need  of  reason  thou  dost  stand; 
The  Absolute  is  not  for  thee,  but  Law's  firm  land." 
"  Thou  understand'st  me  not,"  the  love-drunk  stripling 

cries : 
"  Know  in  each  soul  the  hidden  Loved  One  slumbering 

lies. 


274       *  SPECIMENS    OF 

Know  that  I  to  myself  seem  as  the  Sea  of  Life  : 

I  see  my  spirit  with  thee  and  all  beings  rife. 

Why  shall  I  not  the  truth  announce  ?  —  not  I  am  heard: 

I   fade   away,  and  God   himself  speaks   through   my 

word. 
Wouldst  cast  me  in  the  sea  ?     Ah,  father !  quickly  do : 
There,  lost  to  self,  the  wave  will  give  me  life  that 's  true. 
Father !  I  am  the  Loved  One  :  Godhead  through  me 

gleams : 
Incessant  Revelation  in  my  bosom  streams. 
And  Revelation  says,  *  Thy  soul 's  a  prisoner  chained 
In  the  Ship  of  Time  and  Space:  whoever  sinks  has 

gained.' 
Says  Revelation,  *  Swiftly  leap  beneath  God's  waves : 
'T  is  thus  thy  riddle,  deathless  Soul !  solution  craves.* 
I  am  God,  father,  and  my  being  sinks  in  Him, 
Even  as  a  drop  within  the  sea's  stupendous  rim." 
He  shouts,  and  springs  amidst  the  waves  from  where 

he  stands. 
The  crew  with  bitter  grief  lament,  and  wring  their  hands. 
As  in  the  sun  a  pure  snow-flake  dissolves  to  tears. 
The  beauteous  youth  beneath  the  flood  so  disappears. 
The  father  gazes  where  that  plunge  a  gurgling  makes : 
A  piercing  groan  from  out  his  anguished  bosom  breaks. 
Then,  realizing  all,  sudden  he  looks  around. 
Steps   to  the    ship's  frail  edge,  —  is   gone  with  silent 

bound. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  275 

Like  points  within  a  circle  stand  the  crew  all  dumb  ; 
Spell-bound,  each   stands,  like  a  pearl  in  the   muscle 
numb. 

CARELESS    TRUST. 

My  mind  I  still  will  keep  free  from  perturbing  pains, 
Though  destiny  run  through  the  niglif  with  slackened 
reins. 

THE    HIGHEST    TRANSMUTATION. 

Of  all  the  famous  alchemies,  this  is  the  chief:  — 
Upon  a  hundred  thousand  pounds  of  bitter  grief 
A  single  carat's  weight  of  wine  absorbing  burns, 
And  instantly  to  joy  the  heap  of  sorrow  turns. 

PECULIAR    SERVICE    OF    A    FRIEND. 

In  all  uncertain  straits  thy  way  by  counsel  trace: 
Two  helping  judgments  joined,  for  truth  shall  never 

lack: 
Man's  mind  a  mirror  is,  which  showeth  him  his  face : 
Has  he  a  friend  ?     The  mirrors  twain  reveal  his  back  ! 
•• 

THE  GRAVE  A  GREEN  TENT. 

A  furloughed  soldier,  here  I  sleep,  from  battle  spent, 
And  in  the  resurrection  I  shall  strike  my  tent. 


276  SPECIMENS    OF 

THE    SINNER   AND    THE    MONK  :    FROM    SAADI. 

In  Jesus'  time  there  lived  a  youth  so  black  and  dis- 
solute, 

That   Satan  from  him  shrank,  appalled   in  every  at- 
tribute. 

He  in  a  sea  of  pleasures  foul  uninterrupted  swam, 

And  gluttonized  on  dainty  vices,  sipping  many  a  dram. 
♦  Whoever  met  him  in  the  highway  turned   as  from  a 
pest, 

Or,  pointing  Ufted  finger  at  him,  cracked  some  horrid 
jest. 

I  have  been  told,  that  Jesus  once  was  passing  by  the 
hut 

Where  dwelt  a  monk,  who  asked  him  in,  and  just  tlie 
feast  had  shut. 

When  suddenly  that  slave  of  sin  appeared  across  the 
way. 

Far  off  he  paused,  fell  down,  and  sobbingly  began  to 
pray. 

As  blinded   butterflies  will  from  the   light   affrighted 
shrink, 

So  from  those  righteous  men,  in  awe,  his  timid  glances 
sink ; 

And  like  a  storm  of  rain  the  tears  pour  gushing  from 
his  eyes. 

"  Alas    and  woe  is  me  !  for  thirty  squandered  years," 
he  cries, 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  277 

"  In  drunkenness  I  have  expended  all  my  life's  pure 
coin; 

And  now,  to  make  mj  fit  reward,  Hell's  worst  dam- 
nations join. 

O  would  that  death  had  snatched  me  when  a  sinless 
child  I  lay ! 

Then  ne'er  had  I  been  forced  this  dreadful  penalty  to 
pay. 

Yet  if  thou  let'st  no  sinner  drown  who  sinks  on  mercy's 
strand, 

O  then  in  pity.  Lord !  reach  forth  and  firmly  seize  my 
hand." 

The  pride-puffed  monk,  self-righteous,  lifts  his  eyebrows 
with  a  sneer. 

And  haughtily  exclaims :  "  Vile  wretch !  in  vain  hast 
thou  come  here. 

Art  thou  not  plunged  in  sin,  and  tossed  in  lust's  devour- 
ing sea  ? 

What  will  thy  filthy  rags  avail  with  Jesus  and  with  me  ? 

O  God !  the  granting  of  a  single  wish  is  all  I  pray  ; 

Grant  me  to  stand  far  distant  from  this  man,  in  the 
judgment-day." 

From  heaven's  throne  a  revelation  instantaneous  broke, 

And  God's  own  thunder-words  thus  through  the  mouth 
of  Jesus  spoke : 

"  The  two  whom  praying  there  I  see,  shall  equally  be 
heard : 


278  SPECIMENS    OP 

They  pray  diverse,  —  I  give  to  each  according  to  his 
word. 

That  poor  one,  thirty  years  has  rolled  in  sin's  most  sUmy 
deeps, 

But  now,  with  stricken  heart  and  streaming  tears,  for 
pardon  weeps : 

Upon  the  threshold  of  my  grace  he  throws  him  in  de- 
spair. 

And,  faintly  hoping  pity,  pours  his  supplications  there. 

Therefore,  forgiven,  and  freed  from  all  the  guilt  in 
which  he  lies. 

My  mercy  chooses  him  a  citizen  of  paradise. 

This  monk  desires  that  he  may  not  that  sinner  stand 
beside : 

Therefore  he  goes  to  Hell,  and  so  his  wish  is  gratified." 

The  one's  heart  in  his  bosom  sank ;  the  other's  proudly 
swelled : 

In  God's  pure  court  all  egotistic  claims  as  naught  are 
held. 

Whose  robe  is  white,  but  black  as  night  his  heart  be- 
neath it  lies. 

Is  a  Hve  key  at  which  the  gate  of  Hell  wide  open 
flies! 

Truly  not  self-conceit  and  legal  works  with  God  prevail ; 

But  humbleness  and  tenderness  weigh  down  Salva- 
tion's scale. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  279 

FAREWELL    ANGUISH    OF    A    HUMBLE   HEART. 

O  Friend !  thou  findest  friends  enough  like  me  ; 
But  I  shall  never  find  a  Friend  like  thee. 

THE    SACRAMENTAL    BLUSH. 

Love's  candles  burn,  through  doming  day  and  night, 
Upon  the  holy  altar  of  her  heart, 
And,  blushing  in  her  cheeks,  their  lovely  light 
Makes  every  pulse  with  thrills  of  worship  start. 

THE    MOTH,  THE   LIGHT,  AND  THE  WAX :   FROM  SAADI. 

As  once,  at  midnight  deep,  I  lay,  with  sleepless  eyes. 
These  words  between  the  moth  and  light  did  me  sur- 
prise. 
The  moth  kisses  the  flame,  and  says,  with  tender  sigh  : 
"  Dear  radiance !  I  rejoice  from  love  for  thee  to  die. 
My  love,  thou  diest  not,  yet  anxious  groans  and  strong 
Break  loudly  from  thy  heart,  through  all  the  darkness 

long!" 
The  bright  flame  says :  "  O  moth !  whom  love  to  me 

attracts. 
Know  that  I  also  burn  with  love  for  this  sweet  wax. 
Must  I  not  groan,  as  more  my  lover  melting  sinks, 
And  from  his  life  my  fatal  fire  still  deeper  drmks  ?  " 
As   thus  she  spake,  the  hot  tears  coursed  her  yellow 
cheek, 


280  SPECIMENS    OF 

And  with  each  tear  crackled  a  separation-shriek. 
Then  from  her  mouth  these  further  words  of  pleading 

fall: 
"  Poor  moth !  boasting  of  love,  say  not  thou  lov'st  at 

all. 
Ah !  how  thou  moan'st  when  the  fierce  heat  one  wing 

has  seared ; 
I  stand  till  my  whole  form  in  flame  has  disappeared." 
And  so  she  talked  till  morning  shone  the  room  about ; 
When  lo  !  a  maiden  came  to  put  the  candle  out : 
It  flickered  up,  — ^.the  wick  a  smoking  relic  lay. 
'T  is  thus,  O  gentle  hearts  !  that  true  love  dies  away. 

THE    FOUR    WEAPONS. 

The  brave  man  tries  his  sword,  the  coward  his  tongue : 
The  old  coquette  he/  gold,  her  face  the  young. 

THE    HIGHEST    TRADE. 

Time  and  Space  are  outspread  as  the  open  Bazaar  of 

God's  love, 
And  who  buys  nothing  there  must  be  wretched  all  others 

above, 
The  great  Merchant  his  wares  will  for  ever  keep  back 

from  our  gold : 
For  pure  throbs  of  the  heart,  all  his  gems,  silks,  and 

spices  are  sold. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  281 


SWIFT    OPPORTUNITY. 


A  thousand  years  a  poor  man  watched 
Before  the  gate  of  Paradise : 
But  while  one  Httle  nap  he  snatched, 
It  oped  and  shut.     Ah !  was  he  wise  ? 


UNSEALING   A    LETTER. 

The  firmament  is  God's  letter  of  love  to  man, 
The  sun  the  seal  stamped  on  its  envelope  of  air  ; 
The  confidential  night  tears  off  that  blazing  seal, 
And   lays   the    solenm  star-script,  God's    handwriting, 
bare. 

FORESIGHT   AND    DECREE. 

Prophets  appear  to  think  they  make  what  they  but  say : 
Crowed  not  the  cock,  still  just  the  same  would  dawn  the 


day ! 


THE    POET-CRITIC. 


The  field  a  youthful  bard  and  critic  enters  bold, 
A  dauntless  hero,  in  capacity  twofold. 
The  martyr-crown  he  seeks  from  others  to  deserve, 
And   puts  it  on  them  when  they  from   his  standard 
swerve ! 


282  SPECIMENS    OP 

THE    MONKEY    AND    THE    COCOA-NUT. 

The  cocoa-palm  for  fifty  feet  has  not  a  limb : 

It  were  a  task  to  climb  its  trunk,  so  smooth  and  slim. 

The  Western  sailors  come  the  weltering  ocean  o'er, 
And  moor  their  spacious  bark  hard  by  the  Indian  shore. 

But  how  to  reach  those  lofty  nuts  shall  try  their  wits. 
At  last  a  cunning  thinker  thus  the  problem  hits. 

Each   man   advances   near   the   grove,   and   there  he 

stops. 
A  host  of  monkeys    swarm   amidst   the   palms'   high 

tops. 

Whatever  done  by  man  the  mimic  monkey  sees, 
That  he  will  imitate,  perched  up  amongst  the  trees. 

Straightway  the  crew  begin  to  shower  the  trees  with 

stones : 
The  monkeys  fling  back  nuts  to  break  their  pelters' 

bones. 

The  grinning  sailors  gather  up  a  load  of  these, 

And  stow  them  in  their  ship  till  filled  are  all  its  knees. 

These  cocoa-nuts  shall  in  the  Western  world  be  broke. 
But  those  outwitted  monkeys  will  not  know  the  joke  ! 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  283 

THE    TRIAL    OF    FRIENDSHIP.     E. 

Between  a  wise  magician,  whom  fair  Maia  knew, 
And  one  of  earth's  poor  sons,  there  once  a  friendship 
grew. 

That  friend  his  ear  with  protestations  plied  : 

At  length  their  truth  the  enchanter  by  his  magic  tried. 

Within  a  meadow  sits  the  friend  in  mild  repose, 
Sees  how  each  flower,  each  blade  of  grass,  in  silence 
grows. 

At  once  in  order  rise  the  grass-blades,  and  appear 

A  host  of  helmed  warriors,  armed  with  pike  and  spear. 

They  throng  around  the  friend,  and  greet  him  as  a  king. 
And  pearls  and  rubies  at  his  feet  profusely  fling. 

His  heart  beats  strong  with  bliss :  like  a  vast  tent  un- 
furled. 
The  sky  is  pitched  ;  and  he  is  lord  of  all  the  world. 

A  breathless  man  then  through  the  crowding  courtiers 

pressed. 
And  straight  the  king  as  a  familiar  friend  addressed. 

The  monarch,  with  a  look  surprised,  to  him  replied, 
"  My  friend,  I  know  you  not, "  and  turned  away  in 
pride. 


284  SPECIMENS    OF 

Thrice  waved  his  Maia-stafF  that   grieved   magician's 

hand, 
And  all  the  incantation  faded  from  the  land. 

The  friend,  now  disenchanted,  bitterly  repents, 

Till  thus  the  conjuror  comforts  him  for  his  offence  :  — 

"  It  is  the  world's  low  lusts  that  do  our  senses  bind ; 
Let  Maia's  veil  but  fall,  we  leave  those  snares  behind. 

The  splendid  courtiers  shrink  to  grass-blades  in  the  field, 
The  pearls  and  rubies  are  but  drops  of  dew  congealed. 

Just  now  my  art  made  shapes  to  you  from  out  this  mist : 
And  yet  I  never  would  your  friendship  have  dismissed. 

The  worst  of  the  illusion  was  that  it  turned  friend 
From  friend,  and  therefore  have  I  brought  it  to  an  end. 

But  doubtless,  friend!    had  me  the  same  proud  spell 

possessed. 
You  would  have  seen  me  full  as  badly  stand  the  test.'* 


THE    PARIAH  S    APPEAL.     R. 

O  Brahmin !  let  not  your  poor  outcast  child  be  blamed 
Because  he  as  a  wretched  Pariah  is  named. 

My  hut  is  placed  afar,  that  your  house  may  be  sure 
Not  to  become,  through  smoke  from  my  hearthstone,  im- 
pure. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  285 

You  turn  away  whene'er  the  public  road  I  tread, 
Lest  on  your  foot  should  fall  the  shadow  of  my  head. 

I  from  a  distance,  through  the  open  door,  behold, 
Amidst  the  temple's  throng,  you  standing  calm  and  bold. 

Knelt  I  before  the  graven  god  which  there  I  see. 
Would  it  not  turn,  as  you,  its  back  in  scorn  on  me  ? 

Shining  through  candles,  jewel-glow,  and  rich  incense. 
It  blesses  you ;  but  curses  doth  on  me  dispense. 

Of  yonder  palm's  dropped  dates  I  gathered  up  a  few ; 
None  of  its  harvest,  therefore,  will  be  touched  by  you. 

Beside  the  fount  I  draw  from  hangs  a  skull  for  pail, 
That  you  to  know  who  there  has  drank  may  nowise  fail. 

Should  one  a  corpse  or  ashes  in  that  water  place. 
The  flowing  stream  would  cleanse  itself  from  every 
trace. 

And  yet  the  pitcher  of  my  child,  or  his  young  lip, 
Poisons  it  all,  if  there  with  yours  he  chance  to  dip. 

O  proud  and  cruel  Brahmin !  from  thy  visage  stern, 
For  pity,  I  to  condescending  Krishna  turn. 


286  SPECIMENS    OF    ORIENTAL    POETRY. 

A    SIGNIFICANT   PUN. 

Conceit,  to  gain  instruction  all  too  wise, 
Bears  pedants,  and  not  pupils,  in  his  eyes. 

EVANESCENCE  OF  EARTHLY  GREATNESS.  R. 

A  king,  who  by  the  public  mouth  was  named  the  Great, 
Was  on  his  station's  frailty  wont  to  meditate. 

Against  all  arrogance  as  a  protecting  gate. 
This  phrase  he  oft  repeated ;  Only  God  is  great. 

Those  words  he  bade  them  on  the  palace  wall  ingrain, 
Whose  fragment  columns,  crumbling,  to  this  day  remain. 

City  and  realm  are  sunk,  but  travellers  relate 
You  still  may  read  that  motto:  Only  God  is  great. 

THE    TRUE    TRINITY. 

That  Love,  the  Loved  One,  and  the  Lover, 
All  three  are  only  One,  discover  ! 

STRAIT    IS    THE    GATE. 

Rise  up  betimes,  and  be  awake  !  for  wise  men  say. 
That  unto  knowledge  of  the  Lord  to  find  the  way 
Is  hard  as  barefoot  o'er  a  razor's  edge  to  stray  ! 


ORIENTAL    rOETRY.  287 

Gautama's  sisters  converted. 

Great  Gautama,  the  sage,  two  sisters  had, 
Who  of  their  beauty  were  exceeding  vain. 

The  image  of  a  lovely  maid  he  bade 

Appear  to  them ;  their  hearts  felt  envy's  pain. 

Then  wrinkles  came  that  maiden's  beauty  o'er  ; 

Her  teeth  fell  out,  her  hair  grew  thin  and  gray. 
No  pride  nor  envy  knew  the  sisters  more. 

But  for  Nirwana  they  began  to  pray. 


DISTINCTIONS    EVEN   IN    PANTHEISM. 

The  sea  is  one ;  yet  who  denies  that  waves,  foam,  spray, 

drops,  froth. 
Do  from  each  other  differ,  makes  each  earnest  thinker 

wroth. 

SEED    AND    nurture. 

The  rain  its  bounty  sheds  on  every  field ; 
The  sprouts  will  vary  like  the  seeds  that  yield. 


A    FAIR   hunter. 

A  hunter  is  yon  maid  ;  her  eyebrows  bows  appear  ; 
Her  glances  are  the  arrows,  and  my  heart  the  deer. 


288  SPECIMENS    OF 

THE    HYPOCRITICAL    FRIEND. 

The  friend  who,  before  your  face,  to  flatter  disdains  not, 
But  soon  as  behind  your  back,  from  slander  refrains  not, 
Is  like  unto  poisoned  honey,  luscious  yet  deadly, 
Of  pleasure  and  pain  a  perilous  medley. 

DIVINE   DISTILLATION. 

The  dropping  dew  is  God  dispersed  on  all  things  fit ; 
Wilt  thou  not  be  a  drop  among  the  drops  of  it  ? 

THE    RAHAT's    path. 

"With  pride  you  boast  your  travels  far  and  wide, 
Your  topographic  knowledge  multiplied. 
I  know  a  road  which  all  your  lore  exceeds,  — 
The  blessed  road  that  to  Nirwdna  leads. 

THE    INFESTED    HEART. 

Within  the  heart  of  every  man  are  found  a  hundred 

swine ; 
Slay  these,  or  the  Brahmanic  cord  around  your  body 

twine. 

THE   DIVINE    VICTORY. 

He  who  forbears  to  take  revenge,  I  know. 
Achieves  the  noblest  conquest  of  his  foe. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  289 

DESCRIPTIVE    GENIUS. 

When  Amruzail  describes  what  he  has  seen, 

Such  power  in  his  language  lies, 
That  as  he  paints  flocks,  wastes,  oases  green, 

His  hearers'  ears  are  turned  to  eyes  ! 

THE    FAITH    OF    THEISM. 

Deny  a  living  God,  from  seraph-host  to  plains  of  calc, 
And  the  abyss  of  Space  is  but  a  star-decked  catafalque. 

OM    MANI   PADMI    HOOM  :    BUDDHIST    PRAYER. 

«     The  flood  of  time,  the  storm  of  life,  are  cruel ; 
Hail,  hail  to  him  with  lotus  and  with  jewel ! 
Whose  faith  and  rites,  destroying  all  the  fuel 
That  feeds  the  existence-fire,  will  end  the  duel 
Between  the  soul  and  limitation.     Cruel 
The  strife  of  being  with  its  bounds.     But  sweeter 
Is  Sakya  Muni's  faith  to  its  repeater 
Than  honey  to  the  tongue  of  famished  eater. 
No  more  he  halts,  of  time  and  space  a  meter ; 
Of  infinite  Nirwana  made  a  greeter. 
His  ills  all  die  with  speed  than  lightning  fleeter ! 

THE    ONE    AND    THE    MANY. 

Of  all  the  world's  ten  million  pools  and  streams  and  lakes, 
Each  one  its  image  of  the  single  sun-orb  takes. 


290  SPECIMENS    OF 

So  every  human  soul  within  the  nation-folds, 
Its  separate  semblance  of  the  single  Godhead  holds. 
The  sun  remains,  though  all  the  waters  flow  away : 
When  men  are  gone  will  solitary  Brahma  stay. 


THE    GOODNESS    OP    SIVA. 

The  firmamental  Indra  once,  in  ire. 
Chased  Agni,  the  provoking  god  of  fire. 
Agni  assumed  a  pigeon's  shape,  and  flew. 
How  quick  did  Indra,  as  a  hawk,  pursue ! 
The  panting  fugitive  to  Siva  fled. 
"  Fear  not,  poor  trembler  !  '*  gentle  Siva  said. 
Indra  approaches,  and  demands  his  prey  :  — 
"  He  takes  my  life  who  takes  my  food  away." 
"  I  ne'er  betray  the  guest  who  trusts  my  word. 
Although  that  guest  be  but  a  trembling  bird. 
Ask  any  substitute,  however  rare, 
And  you  shall  not  behold  me  halt  or  spare." 
"  I  '11  have  my  prey,  or  else  thy  breast,  I  swear ! 
"  Be  welcome  ! "  Siva  said,  and  laid  it  bare. 
The  hawk  upon  the  breast  took  eager  flight. 
And  fed  till  he  had  cloyed  his  appetite. 
Upon  the  scene  this  miracle  displays 
The  UNIVERSE  became  an  eye  to  gaze  ; 
And  from  the  drops  of  Siva's  blood  that  fell 
Redeeming  sages  sprang,  the  Shasters  tell. 


ORIENTAL   POETRY.  291 


EGOTISTIC    CRITICS. 

Some  men  a  fault  in  another  will  find 

As  small  as  a  grain  of  meal ; 
But  in  themselves,  though  not  otherwise  blind, 

Are  quite  unable  to  feel 
A  ^Qult  as  large  as  the  cocoa-nut's  rind. 

TO   A   SOCIAL   ASPIRANT. 

The  struggle  after  honor  leave 
Forever ;  turn  into  thy  breast 
That  fiery  will  which  now,  in  strife 
As  sent  abroad,  but  runs  to  waste,  — 
And  thou  shalt  lead  a  noble  life, 
Nor  longer  vainly  chafe  and  grieve. 

DSCHELLALEDDIN   RUMY's    MATIN-CALL. 

0  arise  !  for  to  us  is  belonging  all  nature  to-day, 

And  the  Soul  of  the  World  comes  alike  as  our  host 
and  our  guest ; 
While  the  lutes  of  the  stars  through  the  morning  en- 
trancingly  play. 
And  with  roses  is  drunken  the  nightingale  soul  in 
my  breast. 


292  SPECIMENS    OP 

DSCHAMY    RECEIVING   A   LETTER. 

In  the  East  the  bright  falcon  of  morning  upflew ; 
From  the  rose-bsd  of  luck  a  soft  atmosphere  blew ; 
By  the  post  of  good  fate  came  thy  missive  to  me, 
That  the  prayers  of  thy  soul  their  fulfilment  might  see. 
Then,  as  swiftly  I  tore  the  envelope  apart, 
A  sweet  perfume  embathing  my  flesh  and  my  heart. 
For  the  pearl  of  the  meaning  therefrom  to  be  learned, 
To  the  letter  my  mind  as  a  muscle  I  turned. 

A    SUBLIME    HEEDLESSNESS. 

The  real  saint,  absorbed  m  what  he  loves  and  knows. 
Forgets  aUke  caresses,  spurns,  and  gifts,  and  blows  ; 
The  lover  of  the  Lord,  when  blessed  to  see  His  face. 
The  dealings  of  His  hand  will  never  care  to  trace. 

TURNING   FROM    TALE-BEARERS. 

Withdraw  your  mind,  however  hard  the  task. 
When  gossips  put  their  friends  upon  the  rack ; 

In  magnanimity  refrain  to  ask 

What  any  one  has  said  behind  your  back.    - 

For  only  that  which  to  your  hearing  comes 

Can  vex  your  soul  with  anger,  pain,  and  dread ; 

Whate'er  beyond  your  hearing  dies  or  hums. 
Is  just  as  though  it  never  had  been  said. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  293 

SHARP-SIGHTEDNESS    OF    THE    ARAB    HORSE. 

The  lion  and  the  horse  one  day  disputed  which 
Of  them  possessed  the  most  discriminating  sight. 
A  hair  all  white  in  milk  the  lion  saw  by  night ; 

The  horse  by  night  perceived  a  sable  hair  in  pitch. 

SWIFTNESS    OF    THE    ARAB    HORSE. 

Mahlek  Ben  Essedin  sings, 
Horses  are  birds  without  wings. 

LIGHT-FOOTEDNESS    OF    THE    ARAB    HORSE. 

Haymour,  the  peerless  chestnut  steed 
Of  Hussein,  Sheik  of  El  Medeen, 
Was  said  to  be  so  light  of  foot, 
That  on  a  woman's  bosom  he 
Could  dance,  nor  leave  a  bruise  behind. 

REWARD    IS    HUMAN  :    FROM   LEBID. 

Reward  with  good  the  good  one  does  to  thee,  the  least ; 
For  it  is  only  man  rewards,  and  not  the  beast. 

EVANESCENCE    OF   MORTAL    THINGS. 

O  imperial  Babylon  !  where  is  the  pulp  of  thy  rind  ? 
And  the  throne  of  great  Solomon  where  ?     They  are 
gone  on  the  wind  : 


294  SPECIMENS    OF 

In  the  lore  of  the  past  though  a  million  bright  deeds 

are  enshrined, 
Many  more,  brighter  far,  have  evanished  like  mist  on 

the  wind. 
What  are  glory  and  riches  ?     But  firmans  that  Fortune 

hath  signed, 
Just  to  glitter  a  moment,  and  pass  on  the  breath  of  the 

wind. 
Hast  been  chained  ?  or  by  love  hast  been  crossed  ?  or 

in  sorrow  hast  pined  ? 
Ah !  how  glad  thou  shalt  be  when  thy  relics  are  dust 

on  the  wind. 
For  the  spirit  in  death  all  its  burdens  and  bounds  leaves 

behind, 
And  will  nevermore  care  for  the  things  that  must  go 

on  the  wind. 

THE    MAGNANIMOUS    FRIEND. 

Even  if,  when  in  my  need,  for  help  I  sought. 
My  friend  to  me  assistance  never  brought. 
When  cries  that  friend  for  help  in  his  sore  need, 
Forgetting  every  grudge,  to  him  I  speed. 

A    LOFTY    RESERVE  :    FROM    MOTANEBBI. 

Complain  not  to  the  crowd ;  you  will  but  give  them 

joy,  I  say  ;  — 
As  if  a  wounded  deer  complained  unto  the  birds  of  prey. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  295 

THE    PROPHETIC    BEGINNING. 

The  gray  morning,  I  see,  in  the  night  of  thy  beard  has 

just  broken. 
He  replied,  with  a  sigh,  soon  as  thus  I  had  smilingly 

spoken  : 
Was  there  ever  a  dawn  that  did  not  the  full  noonday 

betoken  ? 

LOVE    SOWING   AND    REAPING   ROSES. 

An  Arab,  by  his  earnest  gaze, 

Has  clothed  a  lovely  maid  with  blushes  ; 

A  smilfe  within  his  eyelids  plays, 
And  into  words  his  longing  gushes. 

The  loving  looks  my  heart  out-throws 
Upon  your  cheeks  have  planted  roses. 

O,  let  me  pluck  !  That  he  who  sows 
Should  reap,  there  is  no  law  opposes. 

THE    DIVINE   INTEGER. 

Not  an  object  can  be,  but  the  same  has  existed  before, 
Leaping  up  in  the  light,  falling  back  in  the  dark,  of 
its  source  ; 
Awful  space  is  of  God  but  the  azure  and  echoless  floor. 
Where  sufficingly  dwells  He,  an  absolute   unit  of 
force. 


20 G  SPECIMENS    OF 

Thus,  no  matter  how  varied,  all  things  are  but  sports. 

of  the  One, 
From  this  mystical  thought  in  my  mind,  to  yon  bubble, 

the  Sun  ; 
What  appears  is  a  shimmer  of  spirit  on  matter's  dim 

screen, 
As  I  long  ago  learned  to  perceive  from  great  Dschella- 

leddin. 

THE    LAST    PERCH    OF   DELIGHT. 

For  eons  that  no  number  can  compute, 

All  drunk  and  wild  with  ecstasy  of  bliss. 
The  rahat  in  a  dazzling  spiral  flew. 

And  still  the  apex  of  perfection  neared. 
But  in  that  endless  flight,  the  sum  of  joy 

Across  his  vision  and  his  senses  poured. 
Were  nothing  to  the  rapture  which  he  knew 

The  solitary  instant  when  he  stood 
Upon  Nirwand's  edge,  and  took  the  leap 

Which  left  poor  Limitation's  marks  behind, 
And  made  him  absolute  and  total  All. 

THE   RUINED    HOUSE. 

When  Otbah  saw  the  home  of  Bani  Jash 
Deserted  by  its  inmates,  once  so  gay. 

Now  still,  —  the  fallen  door  and  broken  sash,  — 
He  sighed  :  Alas  !  no  house  on  earthly  clay 


ORIENTAL   POETRY.  297 

Is  built,  —  however  fair  and  strong  its  walls, 
However  love  and  peace  its  chambers  fill,  — 

But  at  the  last  a  fatal  message  calls, 

A  mournful  wind  complains  across  its  sill !  . 


AN   ARABIC    RIDDLE. 

The  first  and  last  are  just  alike,  upon  my  soul ; 

But  —  who  my  riddle  reads  ?  —  the  middle  is  the  whole. 

/  uoom  iinj  puB  *pp  ^mo^ 
•noos  OS  ':>!  p^aj  j 

THE   FRIEND   IN   PROOF. 

Name  not  as  friends  the  men  who  by  you  stand 

In  pleasant  times,  when  peace  and  welfare  please  you ; 

But  him  indeed  call  friend  who  grasps  your  hand 
In  that  dark  day  when  want  and  danger  seize  you. 


THE   DYED    SOUL. 

O  thou  in  beauty's  wild  enchantment  dressed, 

My  soul  has,  like  the  tulip,  been  in  blood  immersed. 
And  will,  if  here  by  thy  rejecting  scorn  accursed, 

Bear  to  the  future  world  the  marks  thou  hast  impressed. 


298  SPECIMENS    OF 


TRUE   NOBILITY. 


Who  nobly  lives  and  dies  I  noble  call, 
Although  the  most  ignobly  born  of  all. 

A  NEW   MAN. 

Leave  ancestry  behind, 

Despise  heraldic  art ; 
Thy  father  be  thy  mind, 

Thy  mother  be  thy  heart. 

Dead  names  concern  not  thee, 

Bid  foreign  titles  wait ; 
Thy  deeds  thy  pedigree. 

Thy  hopes  thy  rich  estate  ! 

EXCLUSION    OF   DEITY. 

God  must  in  all  creation  be. 

Vile  wretch,  say  not  He  is  in  thee  ! 

BEAUTY   THE    SPRINGE    OF   HEAVEN. 

Wherever,  Zuleika,  thou  comest,  breaks  the  night  into 
day; 
Enslaved  by  thy  form  I  have  gone  through  the  world 
with  my  lute ; 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  299 

The  charm  of  thy  ringlets  would  lead  even  the  Devil 

astray ; 

The  cherubim  gaze  on  thy  face  in  astonishment  mute. 

When  love  unto  full  contemplation  thy  beauty  unfurled, 

There  stood  the  sweet  Springe  into  which  flew  at  once 

the  whole  world. 


THE   CIRCUMSPECT    TRAVELLER. 

And  well  I  judge, 

As  forward  I  trudge, 
'T  is  best  for  each  pilgrim  chap 

To  be  cautious  very  ; 

For  I  have  heard 

That  the  flying  bird 
Has  oft  come  into  the  trap 

For  a  luring  berry. 

timour's  statesmanship. 

Timour,  the  Tartar,  said  :  An  empire  is  a  tent ; 
Justice  should  be  the  pole  around  which  it  is  bent, 
Sure  promptitude  of  equity  its  girding  rope. 
And  its  two  fastening-pins  philanthropy  and  hope. 
Then  it  protection  o'er  its  tenants  long  shall  throw, 
However  loud  and  fierce  the  blasts  of  trial  blow. 


300  SPECIMENS    OF 

THE   INFINITE   DWELLER. 

From  the  pitiful  form  of  a  flea,  to  the  person  of  Rama, 
All  the  bodies  of  beings  are  mystical  cities  of  Brahma ; 
In  what  tissues  organic  walled  up,  an  intuitive  token 
Still  incessantly  pines  for  the  time  when  these  jails 
shall  be  broken. 

FORBEARANCE   IS    POLITIC. 

Never  rejoice  at  death  of  foe,  my  friend ; 
Your  own  life  too  is  hurrying  towards  its  end. 

THE   PREACHING    OF    TOMBS. 

As  Adi,  with  the  youthful  prince,  Noman, 

His  pupil,  strolled  one  day  where  slowly  ran 

A  river  past  a  cemetery  gray, 

He  asked,  Knowest  what  yon  silent  tenants  say  ? 

This  is  the  speech  their  mouths  of  ruin  hold, 

The  gist  of  a  thousand  songs  and  proverbs  old : 

"  Ye  toiling  caravans,  who  travel  by, 

Like  you,  we  lived  ;  and  youj  like  us,  shall  die  ! 

What  throngs  have  made  their  camels  here  recline 

Before  our  doors,  and  in  their  halt  quaffed  wine 

Mixed  with  this  stream  !     The  morning  passed  away. 

And,  lo  !  they  had  become  of  time  the  prey. 

And  disappeared  in  its  mutations  strange  ; 

For  Time  itself  is  only  change  on  change  !  " 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  301 

AN    OMNIPRESENT    GOAL   IS   PATHLESS. 

Whatever  bears  a  sign,  thou,  Lord,  must  be  ; 
But  no  sign  bears  the  way  that  leads  to  thee. 

THE  COW-BOY  OF  GOPALA  :  PREM  SAGAR. 

When  Krishna,  as  a  cowherd  boy, 
Among  the  cowherd  maidens  strayed, 

With  magic  decked,  full-wreathed  with  joy, 
All  in  Gopala's  pleasant  meads,  — 

Such  heavenly  charms  around  him  played, 

So  wondrous  were  his  countless  deeds. 

That  in  him  Brahma,  doubting,  thought 

An  avatar  of  Vishnu  wrought. 

At  once  the  surmise  he  would  test. 

The  doubt  confirm,  or  lay  at  rest. 

While  Krishna  on  a  crumpled  heap 

Of  breathing  roses  lies  asleep. 

The  herd  of  cattle  Brahma  steals, 

With  every  tending  lass  and  lad. 

And  bears  them  through  the  traceless  sky. 

The  youthful  cowherd  quickly  feels 

A  warning  sign  of  something  bad, 

Starts  up,  and  seeks  the  reason  why. 

The  sacred  cows,  his  playmates  too. 

Are  gone.     He  calls  aloud.     In  vain  ! 

Where'er  he  looks,  the  grassy  plain 


302  SPECIMENS    OP 

Is  all  that  meets  his  anxious  view. 
At  length  he  sees  what  has  been  done, 
And,  searching  for  some  fit  relief, 
His  ruminating  mind  employs  ; 
For  he  foresees  the  boundless  grief 
That  will  throughout  Gopala  run, 
Thus  reft  of  cows,  of  girls  and  boys. 
Before  his  mind  kneel  all  the  fates  ; 
His  countenance  no  more  is  sad. 
By  one  voHtion  he  creates 
As  many  a  charming  lass  and  lad, 
Just  such  a  herd  of  grazing  kine. 
Exactly  stamped  with  every  sign. 
As  those  that  came  there  in  the  morn ; 
They  were  identical  in  each 
Particular  of  form  and  speech. 
And  all  events  since  they  were  born. 
Just  like  the  missing  cows,  the  new 
Entered  their  stalls  with  easy  air, 
As  though  they  had  been  wonted  there  ; 
The  boys  and  girls  their  parents  knew, 
And  every  reminiscence  shared. 
So  Brahma's  mischief  was  repaired. 
And  solaced  those  he  did  bereave. 
But  when  the  sacred  milk  they  quaffed. 
We  may  be  sure  that  in  his  sleeve 
The  lovely,  cunning  cow-boy  laughed. 


ORIENTAL   POETRY.  303 

BRAHMANIC    MATINS. 

Valmiki  early  in  the  morning  rose, 

And,  girding  on  his  hermit  garb  of  bark. 

Repaired  to  where  the  smooth  Tamasa  flows. 
As  tints  of  dawn  began  the  clouds  to  mark. 

His  dress  laid  off,  he  bathes  himself  with  care, 

Repeating  softly  many  a  Veda  prayer. 

He  scoops  the  wave,  slow  pours  it  on  the  sods, 

In  memory  of  his  ancestors  and  gods  ; 

Then  takes  with  pure  and  cheerful  mind  his  way 

To  enter  on  the  duties  of  the  day. 

THE   PROLONGERS    OF   TIME. 

Sorrow,  suspense,  desire,  and  fear,  — 
These  four  can  make  a  day  appear 
Long  as  the  shadow  of  a  spear. 

BIRTH    OP   THE    SLOKA  ;    OR,    ORIGIN    OF   VERSE. 

When  all  the  matter  of  his  Epic  lay  in  sage  Valmiki's 

mind. 
But  in  what  form  of  prose  or  verse  to  clothe  it  he  had 

not  defined, 
He  wandered  on  the  banks  of  fair  Tamasa,  musing  deep 

and  long, 
Seeking  to  choose  the  form  and  measure  best  for  his 

immortal  song. 


304  SPECIMENS    OF 

While  thus  employed,  he  saw,  perched  near  him  on  a 
fragrant  spray, 

A  lovely  pair  of  golden  birds,  who  sang  and  wooed  in 
guiltless  play. 

Just  then  a  reckless  archer  came  beneath,  took  careful 
aim  above, 

And  murdered  one  exactly  when  he  was  inebriate  with 
love. 

His  mate  beholds  him  fall,  all  drenched  with  blood,  and 
swiftly  round  him  flies. 

Giving  a  vent  to  her  distress  in  rhythmical  and  plain- 
tive cries. 

Valmiki,  deeply  moved  with  sympathy,  impulsively  ex- 
claims, 

"While  sorrow  dews  his  eyes,  and  righteous  anger  through 
his  bosom  flames : 

"  O  wretch,  my  curse  on  thee !  for  of  these  warblers, 
brighter  than  the  sun. 

While  all  inebriate  with  love,  thy  cruel  hand  hath 
slaughtered  one." 

His  tender  voice  his  pulse  divided  as  the  mourning 
songstress  wailed, 

And  in  the  rhythmic  line  it  formed,  the  wished  discov- 
ery he  hailed. 

That  line,  as  born  of  griefs  let  all  men  by  the  name  of 
SloJca  know ; 

Thus  formed,  Ramayana  shall  live  while  mountains 
stand  and  rivers  flow. 


ORIENTAL   POETRY.  805 


IDEAL    GENEROSITY. 


Among  generous  kings  was  Ularka  the  chief 

That  e'er  sat  on  a  throne.     Once,  his  virtue  to  try, 
Mighty  Indra  came  down,  for  a  period  brief, 

In  a  mendicant's  form,  with  a  pitiful  cry  ; 
In  appearance  as  poor  as  a  shrivelled-up  leaf. 
At  the  feet  of  Ularka  he  stretched  out  his  palms. 

And  looked  up  at  the  king  with  a  suppliant  eye. 

To  this  silent  request  made  the  monarch  reply  : 
"Ask  whatever  thou   wilt,   thou   shalt  have   it  as 
alms." 

Then  at  once  did  the  beggar,  exclaiming,  arise : 
"  O  Ularka,  the  gift  that  I  ask  is  thine  eyes  ! " 
But  an  instant  the  king  hesitatingly  sat. 

Then  outplucked  the  bright  orbs,  and,  with  hands 
that  dim  groped. 
The  two  jewels  resplendent  he  laid  on  the  mat 

At  the  feet  of  the  god  ;  who  his  Deity  oped 
In  a  sunburst  of  smiles,  and  applauded  the  king. 

And  a  sardonyx  chair,  dropping  down  from  above. 
Took  them  in,  and  returningly  flew  without  wing. 
While  both  men  and  the  gods  made  the  universe  ring 

With  their  shouts,  and  the  air  was  all  loaded  with 
love ! 


306  SPECIMENS    OF 


THE    SAINT   CONQUERING    SATAN. 

The  World  so  darkly  lies, 
The  fowler,  Mara,  few  can  see. 

Before  his  nets  surprise, 
Be  warned,  poor  bird,  betimes  by  me  ! 

As  yon  flamingo  sails 
Through  sunny  paths  serenely  on 

Till  straining  eyesight  fails 
To  follow  whither  it  has  gone  ; 

So  through  the  ether  flies 
The  sage,  with  magic  strength  endued, 

Nirwana  for  his  prize. 
The  World  and  Mara  all  subdued. 

BEWARE    OF   DELAY. 

Fair  opportunities  are  swift  to  go  ; 

But  in  returning  they  are,  ah,  how  slow  ! 

THE  END  OF  A  KALPA. 

The  earth  dissolves,  the  stars  grow  dark,  the  sun  ex- 
pires ; 
An  ashy  hue  comes  o'er  the  sky ;  all  spirits  fade  ; 
Retreat  chaotic  glooms  and  cosmogonic  fires, 

Absorbing  boundlessness  claims  all  that  has  been 
made. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  307 

The  elements  reseek  their  transcendental  deep,  — 
The  kalpa  ends,  great  Brahma  is  about  to  sleep. 

CONTENTED   DISCONTENT. 

When  sinful  pleasure  lapped  me  in  her  honeyed  state. 
My  spirit  was  uneasy  and  disconsolate  ; 
But  thrills  of  deep  contentment  through  my  bosom  went 
As  often  as  I  felt  my  utter  discontent. 

THE   BLESSED   ISLE. 

To  calm  and  cleanse,  and  make  thy  heart  thine  own, 
By  prayer  and  lofty  musing  strain  its  blood 
From  restless  self-desires.     Whoe'er  does  this, 

Not  led  and  fed  by  hopes  of  heaven  alone. 
Amidst  the  rage  of  Time's  destroying  flood 
Uprears  himself  a  stable  isle  of  bliss. 

NO   TEDIUM   IN   ETERNITY. 

To  the  watcher  the  night  seemeth  long. 
To  the  pilgrim  each  parasang  long  ; 
But,  O,  longer  by  far  seemeth  time 
To  him  who  hath  nothing  but  time ! 


308  SPECIMENS   OP 


ABOU  FL   MAHR  AND   HIS  HORSE. 

It  is  Abou  el  Mahr,  the  gallant  Sheik  of  Al  Azeed  ; 
How  fondly  he  is  stroking  Lahla,  his  unrivalled  steed ! 

Among  the  hills  of  Schem  the  tents  of  Al  Azeed  are 

pitched, 
And  close  by  every  warrior's  door  the  favorite  horse  is 

hitched. 

For  valor  none  can  stand  the  men  of  Al  Azeed  beside ; 
And  Houri  only  with  their  maids  comparison  can  bide. 

This   tribe    the   unchallenged   banner   too   throughout 

Arabia  bears, 
For  the  wondrous  strength  and  beauty  of  their  stallions 

and  their  mares. 

But  first  among  their  warriors  stands  the  Sheik,  Abou 

el  Mahr, 
And  conscious  Lahla  shines  among  their  steeds,  the 

peerless  star. 

When   clasps   Abou   proud   Labia's   neck  to  kiss  his 

veined  cheek, 
The  courser  looks  his  love  as  plainly  as  if  he  could 


ORIENTAL   POETRY.  309 

He  waves  his  mane,  he  paws,  he  curls  his  nostrils  and 

his  lips ; 
He  makes  half-vocal  sounds,  uprears  or  droops  his  neck 

and  hips  j 

His  deep  and  pensive  eyes  light  up  with  lambent  flame, 

then  seem 
As  if  they  swam  in  the  desires  of  some  mysterious  dream. 

And  thus  his  mind  —  in  signs  through  changing  nerves 

and  muscles  wrought. 
Of  paleness,  flush,  and  gesture  —  has  a  language  for 

each  thought. 

Abou  caresses  him  before  the  people  gathered  there, 
Who  gaze  with  wonder  at  his  loving  and  his  haughty 
air. 

And  Leila,  Selim,  Zar  —  the  wife  and  children  of  the 

Sheik  — 
Will  pat  and  kiss  him,  and  his  hoof  within  their  bosoms 

take. 

And  twenty  chiefs  press  near,  their  servants  ranged  in 

ordered  bands, 
The  privilege  to  claim  that  he  shall  eat  from  out  their 

hands. 

For  Labia  is  of  Al  Azeed  the  crowning  joy  and  pride  ; 
The  envy  and  despair  of  all  the  Arab  tribes  beside. 


310  SPECIMENS    OF 

Another  horse  so  celebrated  never  spurned  the  earth ; 
Through   white   Koureen,   the  mare  of  Solomon,  he 
draws  his  birth ; 

And  traces  back,  in  straight,  untainted  rill,  his  royal  blood 
To  thrice  illustrious  Hufafa,  great  Abraham's  sable  stud. 

Hang  o'er  his   spotless  forehead,   which  is   white   as 

whitest  milk. 
Soft  tufts  of  handsome  hair  as  glossy  as  the  finest  silk. 

Those  tufts  compose  a  veil  which  every  breeze  in  open- 
work hems. 

And  underneath  it  glimpse  his  rapid  eyes,  two  burning 
gems. 

His  neck  and  chest  the  graces  of  a  swan's  in  nothing  lack ; 
A  gorgeous  mantle,  woven  of  silk  and  gold,  beclothes 
his  back. 

His  pedigree,  two  hundred  high  descents,  his  bosom  bears 
In  bag  of  musk,  wherewith  two  precious  amulets  he  wears. 

His  limbs  and  sockets  so  elastic,  all  his  motions  are 
So  swift  and  smooth,  the  rider  scarcely  feels  a  start  or  jar. 

Abou  el  Mahr  would  on  his  back,  in  rapid  gallop  still, 
A  brimming  cup  of  sherbet  quaff,  and  not  a  droplet  spill. 

Indeed,  a  bard  so  mounted  might  receive  the  fancy  bold, 
His  courser  was  a  bird  whose  wings  an  unseen  move- 
ment hold. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  311 

No  price  or  bribe  could  cause  the  Sheik,  nor  any  des- 
perate need, 
To  part  with  his  redoubtable  and  idolized  steed. 

It  is  Abou  el  Mahr,  with  twelve  choice  men  of  Al  Azeed ; 
And  they  to  seize  the  hostile  Bagdad  caravan  proceed. 

Soon  through  the  Synor  pass  into  the  open  plain  they 

wind, 
And  shake  their  spears,  and  shout,  their  blue  caftans 

stream  wide  behind. 

Abou,  his  Labia's  sinews  strung  with  fire,  is  far  before. 
As  on  the  undefended,  scattering  caravan  they  pour. 

To   guard   their   goods   two   merchants   of  Damascus 

bravely  stand. 
But  in  an  instant  both  are  stretched  in  death  upon  the 

sand. 

The  Sheik  and  his  good  men  of  Al  Azeed  pile  all  the  spoil 
Upon  the  camels,  and  their  homeward  way  begin  to  toil. 

At  noon  they  halt  to  rest  awhile  beside  a  desert  spring ; 
Ah  !  who  can  tell  what  utter  ruin  one  thoughtless  hour 
may  bring  ? 

Their  foe,  the  fierce  Pacha  of  Acre,  leads  his  horsemen 

there, 
Cries,  "  Strike  !  and  I  command  you,  save  Abou,  not 

one  to  spare  !  '* 


312  SPECIMENS    OF 

So  all  are  slain.     The  Sheik,  in  his  right  arm  a  fearful 

wound, 
His  darling  Lahla  led  before,  is  on  a  camel  bound. 

They  journey  on  until  they  reach  the  mountains  of 

Saphkd, 
Just  as  the  sun  drops  out  of  sight,  and  night  falls  dark 

and  sad. 

The  old  Pacha  commands  each  soldier  there  to  pitch 

his  tent, 
And  take  good  care  the  escape  of  horse  or  camel  to 

prevent. 

The  keeper  of  the  Sheik  has  tied  him  fast  both  hand 

and  foot. 
And  fallen  asleep,  and  dreams  of  fighting,  routing,  and 

pursuit. 

But  the  poor  captive,  restless  with  his  torturing  wound, 

still  wakes. 
And  Labia's  low,  disconsolate  neigh  his  anguish  sharper 

makes. 

Bound  as  he  is,  he  rolls  and  crawls  one  last  caress  to  give 
The  steed  from  whom  he  had  not  thought  to  part  while 
he  should  live. 

"  O  Lahla  ! "  sighs  Abou,  "  no  more  shall  I  rejoice  with 

thee 
To  skim  the  waste,  the  wild  Simoom  not  prouder  or 

more  free ; 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  313 

"  No  more  with  thee  the  Jordan  swim,  whose  spurned 

water  drips 
From  off  thy  sides,  as  white  and  pure  as  foam  from  off 

thy  lips. 

"  A  bitter  fate  consigns  me  to  my  unrelenting  foe  ; 
But  thou,  bright  gem  of  Al  Azeed,  in  liberty  shalt  go. 

"  What  wouldst  thou  do,  poor  friend,  shut  in  the  close 

and  wretched  khan 
Of  some  Turk  huckster  not  deserving  to  be  called  a  man  ? 

"  No,  whether  fortune  dooms  me  for  a  slave  or  here  to  die, 
Thou  shalt,  O  jewel  of  a  thousand  hearts,,  in  freedom  fly. 

"  Go  to  the  tents  thou  knowest  so  well,  amid  the  hills 

of  Schem, 
And  say,  Abou  el  Mahr  will  nevermore  return  to  them. 

"  Thy  head  put  through  the  door  where  my  dear  wife 

and  children  are. 
And  lick  the  hands  of  Leila,  Selim,  and  sweet  little  Zar. 

"  O  Lahla,  Lahla !  must  I  now  from  thee  forever  part ! 
Farewell,  farewell,  beloved  comrade  of  my  life  and 
heart ! " 

So  saying,  with  his  teeth  laboriously  he  gnawed  apart 
The  tethering  cord  that  went  around  the  stake,  and 
bade  him  start ! 


314  SPECIMENS    OP 

But  the  sagacious  soul  bounds  not  away.     The  bonds 

he  smells 
That  bind  hi^  master's  limbs.     Each  fact  to  him  its 

secret  tells. 

With  tenderness  he  licks  the  blood  upon  the  shattered 

arm, 
Gives  forth  a  low  and  painful  whine,  but  raises  no  alarm. 

His  teeth  the  girdle  seize  ;  he  lifts  Abou,  so  spare  and 

tall; 
Now  foolish  guards,  now  old  Pacha,  defiance  to  you  all ! 

Great  Labia  proves  himself  a  steed  of  living  steel  and 

fire; 
To  reach  him  vain  are  all  the  struggles  of  their  mad 

desire. 

For  the  hills  of  Schem  he  aims  his  way  through  the 

open,  lustrous  night. 
Straight  as  an  arrow  goes,  swift  as  the  lightning  in  its 

flight. 

The  stars  one  after  one  go  down  behind  the  desert's  rim, 
But  the  pale  and  eager  moon  rushes  in  even  pace  with 
him. 

The  palm-clumps  on  oases  lift  their  heads  of  yellow  green 
Above  the  downs  of  endless  sand,  and  vanish  soon  as 
seen. 


ORIENTAL    POETRY.  315 

The   lagging   sun   comes   up ;   twelve    weary,  mighty 

leagues  are  passed ; 
The  lovely  haunts  and  tents  of  Al  Azeed  appear  at  last. 

The  anxious  tribe,  whose  thirteen  best  are  out,* is  all  astir ; 
The  mother  deems  it  time  her  sons  should  have  returned 
to  her. 

Ha !  what  upon  the  far  horizon  moves  ?    A  single  steed  ? 
Is  this  what  we  looked  for  with  such  intensity  of  greed  ? 

Nearer !  can  it  be  Lahla  ?    In  his  mouth  a  bundle  ?   No, 
The  matchless  Lahla  never  from  adventure  came  so  slow. 

The  godlike  steed,  with  staggering  steps,  faint  pantings, 

almost  spent, 
The  girdle  bites,  reels  up,  and  lays  Abou  before  his  tent. 

One  instant  stands  he,  looking  round,  as  if  reward  to  reap 
From  those  who,  thrilled  with  grateful  love  and  won- 
der, gaze  and  weep. 

Then,  while  the  congregated  tribe  break  forth  in  pier- 
cing cries. 

The  noble  creature,  gasping,  falls,  all  blood  und  foam, 
and  dies. 

Thabit  Ben  Ali,  poet  of  the  tribe,  leaps  through  the 

crowd, 
With  soul  on  fire,  and  sings  the  feat  in  panegyric  proud. 


316  SPECIMENS    OF    ORIENTAL    POETRY. 

To  thrilling  tones  of  love  and  pride  he  smites  his  burn- . 

ing  lyre  ; 
With  raining  eyes  and  heaving  bosoms  all  as  one  respire. 

"  No  man''  he  says,  "  not  even  Hatim  Tai,  could  have 

done 
A  nobler  deed,  a  more  impassioned  gratitude  have  won. 

"  Long  as  the  Horse  shall  be  the  friend  and  servant  of 

our  race, 
The  glorious  fame  of  Labia  shall  resound  through  time 

and  space." 

Full  many  a  day  has  passed  since  Ali  sang  his  touching 
song, 

And  from  the  vale  the  tents  of  Al  Azeed  have  van- 
ished long ; 

But  in  the  night  of  Arab  lore  still  shineth,  like  a  star, 
The  story  of  the  peerless  Labia  and  Abou  el  Mahr. 


POEMS  OTHER  THAN  ORIENTAL, 


DEBENT  ET  PRODESSE  ET  DELECTARE  POET^E. 

It  is  the  poet's  happy  duty, 

Whose  breast  his  singing  eases, 

In  joint  behoof  of  truth  and  beauty, 
To  profit  while  he  pleases. 


THE    RIDE    OF   LIFE. 

Each  day  you  have  is  but  a  steed, 

Caparisoned  or  well  or  ill ; 
The  weeks,  the  fresh  relays  you  need ; 

Your  soul,  the  mystic  rider  still. 
The  spurs  and  stirrups  are  of  deed. 

The  sightless  bridle  is  of  will ; 
While  faring  forth  you  smile  or  bleed. 

Take  care,  with  heed  the  saddle  fill ! 


318       POEMS  OTHER  THAN  ORIENTAL. 
THE  SCHOOL  OF  LIFE. 

While  through  the  halls  in  the  school  of  life  we  flit, 
With  hearts  still  turned  where  thou,  O  God !  dost 
lead  them, 

Be  all  thy  ceaseless  benefits  deep  writ 

Where  every  day  we  turn  the  leaves  to  read  them. 

THE    FOOL    OF    FOOLS. 

Soon  as  himself  man  knows. 

He  knows  himself  a  fool ; 
Yet,  ah  !  how  mad  he  grows 

If  one  but  call  him  fool ! 

A   MOOD. 

O  the  burden  of  the  dreams  that  have  long  been  dead. 
And  the  brightness  of  the  hopes  to  my  soul  that  clung ! 

O  the  sadness  of  the  tears  that  never  were  shed. 

And  the  sweetness  of  the  songs  that  never  were  sung ! 

There  is  nothing  a  man  knows,  in  grief  or  in  sin, 

Half  so  bitter  as  to  think.  What  I  might  have  been! 

THE    DOUBLE    HARVEST. 

A  dying  girl,  in  autumn  time. 

Lay  fading  at  the  close  of  day,  — 

Stole  o'er  the  fields  the  reapers'  chime. 
While  fast  around  the  brown  ranks  lay. 


POEMS  OTHER  THAN  ORIENTAL.       319 

"  Open  the  casement  wide,"  she  said, 
"  And  raise  me  up,  that  I  may  look, 

Ere  yet  my  heart  and  eyes  are  dead, 
Once  more  upon  the  field  and  brook ! " 

"  The  harvest  is  the  Lord's,"  loud  sang 

The  reapers  in  the  distant  field  ; 
With  piled-up  sheaves,  with  sickles'  clang, 

To  him  they  all  the  glory  yield. 

Abroad  the  dying  maiden  gazed, 

Then  all  around  grew  sudden  black ; 

The  sun  in  setting  dimly  blazed,  — 
Her  head  upon  the  couch  fell  back. 

"  Farewell ! "  she  sighed,  "  ye  scenes  so  dear." 
"  The  harvest  is  the  Lord's,"  replied, 

Unconsciously,  the  reapers  clear ; 
And  ere  the  distant  echo  died, 

An  angel-reaper  darted  there, 

Too  swift  for  mortal  sight  to  spy. 

And  bore  the  flower  that  drooped  so  fair 
To  God's  great  garner  in  the  sky. 

VOCAL  PHANTOMS  AND  REAL  EXPERIENCE. 

Amidst  a  parlor-full  of  strangers 
He  sits  within  his  easy-chair, 


320       POEMS  OTHER  THAN  ORIENTAL. 

Without  a  thought  of  lurking  dangers, 

And  asks  his  auditors  to  share 
The  secrets  which  themselves  but  dare 
To  face  in  solitude  and  prayer. 

To  themes  so  shy  and  private  listen, 

With  prim  propriety,  the  crowd  ; 
No  eyes  with  softening  radiance  glisten. 

No  quickening  hearts  beat  time  aloud  ; 
Depressed  sit  those  with  love  endowed, 
Complacent  stare  the  cold  and  proud. 

Ah  !  thou  who  so  remotely  talkest 
Of  friendship's  sentimental  stake. 

With  words  at  one  remove  thou  balkest 
The  wants  with  which  our  bosoms  ache. 

Set  forth  the  facts,  —  this  throng  would  wake, 
,    Their  eyes  would  gush,  their  hearts  would  break  / 

AMONG    THE    MOUNTAINS. 

My  way  in  opening  dawn  I  took. 
Between  the  hills,  beside  a  brook. 
The  peaks  one  sun  was  climbing  o*er, 
The  dew-drops  showed  ten  millions  more. 

The  mountain  valley  is  a  vase 

Which  God  has  brimmed  with  rarest  grace  ; 


POEMS  OTHER  THAN  ORIENTAL.       321 

And  kneeling  in  the  taintless  air, 
I  drink  celestial  blessings  there. 

Behold  that  guiltless  bird  !     What  brings 
Him  here  ?     He  comes  to  wash  his  wings. 
Let  me  too  wash  my  wings  with  prayer, 
And  cleanse  them  from  foul  dust  and  care. 

To  one  long  time  in  city  pent 
The  lesson  seems  from  heaven  sent. 
For  pinions  clean  yon  bird  takes  care  ; 
Of  soul  defiled  do  thou  beware  ! 


FtNERAL    HYMN. 

The  worlds  that  shine  above  us  nightly, 
Then  hide  beyond  our  clew, 

Do  surely  shine  all  day  as  brightly 
Behind  their  veil  of  blue. 

When  friends  with  natural  misgiving 

We  lay  in  earth's  cold  bed, 
We  know  that  thus  they  still  are  living 

Where  comes  no  sigh  nor  dread. 

O  while  our  saddest  tears  are  stealing. 
When  fate's  worst  dart  has  sped, 

'T  is  light,  not  darkness,  is  concealing 
Our  well-beloved  dead. 


322       POEMS  OTHER  THAN  ORIENTAL. 

Whene'er  a  funeral  bell  is  tolling, 
Some  weary  one  doth  rest ; 

And  loudly  through  the  skies  are  rolling 
The  anthems  of  the  blest. 

Then  wherefore  should  we  sink  in  sorrow 
To  part  from  those  we  love  ? 

Since  God  will  join  us  all  to-morrow, 
In  the  endless  home  above. 


EPITAPH  ON  TIMON,  THE  MISANTHROPE :  CALLIMACHUS. 

Timon,  hat'st  thou  the  world  or  Hades  worse  ?     Speak 

clear. 
"  Hades,  O  fool !  because  there  are  more  of  us  here  ! " 

THE  PATHOS  OF  LIFE  :  GREEK  ANTHOLOGY. 

The  race  of  man  is  like  a  summer  breeze  that  transient 

blows,  — 
A  stranger  to  himself,  in  all  his  life  he  nothing  knows. 

THE  POOR  man's  COMFORT  :  GREEK  ANTHOLOGY. 

Thou  scorn'st  not  me,  but  poverty  in  me  as  realized ; 
And  God  himself,  if  on  the  earth,  and  poor,  would  be^ 
despised. 


POlAlS    OTHER    THAN    ORIENTAL.  323 

THE    miser's    misery  :    GREEK   ANTHOLOGY. 

Hermon,  the  miser,  dreamed  he  was  in  debt,  and  poor ; 
Waking,  he  quickly  hung  himself  above  the  door  ! 

CAUSE    AND    EFFECT  :    GREEK    ANTHOLOGY. 

Thy  mind  is  lame  as  is  thy  foot ;  for  nature  still  doth 

make 
What  is  without  from  that  which  is  within  its  being  take. 

DISSIPATION  AND  ITS  PROGENY  :    GREEK  ANTHOLOGY. 

Limb-loosing  Bacchus  and  limb-loosing  Venus,  without 
doubt, 

A  horrid  daughter  sometimes  get,  —  the  fierce,  limb- 
loosing  Gout. 

VULCAN  COMPENSATED  :  GREEK  ANTHOLOGY. 

Fair  Eros  for  thy  son,  sweet  Aphrodite  for  thy  wife  ; 
Brass-worker,  it  is  just  thou  take  thy  lameness  without 
strife. 

CYNIC    AND    PLATONIST. 

Diogenes  once  cried, 
"  See  how  I  tread  on  Plato's  pride  ! " 
"  Yes,  with  far  greater  pride  !  " 
The  wise  philosopher  replied. 


324  POEMS    OTHER   THAN    ORIENTAL. 

THE    RETORT   RETORTED. 

Pyrrho  was  wont  to  say, 

"  There 's  no  distinction  bred 

Between  who  lives  to-day 
And  who  to-day  is  dead." 

''  Why  hast  thou  not  then  died  ?  " 
Asked  one,  to  show  his  sense. 

•*  Because,"  Pyrrho  rephed, 
"  There  is  no  difference  !  " 


EWDRUCK    UND    AUSDRUCK  :    RUCKERT. 

Let  something-  make  the  right  impression  on  your  mind, 
And  for  it  soon  the  right  expression  you  will  find ; 
So,  too,  let  something  but  the  right  expression  take, 
And  it  will  very  soon  the  right  impression  make. 


FROM   THE    GERMAN    OF   FEUERBACH,    THE    SATIRIST. 
I.     USE    OP    SATIRE. 

Enlarging,  but  not  altering.  Satire  lays  all  bare ; 
Aye,  like  a  microscope,  it  shows  things  as  they  are. 

II.  riNAL  CAUSE  OF  THE  FGRBIDDBK  FRUIT. 

Dost  know  the  reason  why  the  apple  Adam  bit  ? 
To  do  a  favor  to  Theology  was  it. 


POEMS  OTHER  THAN  ORIENTAL.       325 


III.     THE   WISE   ASCETIC. 

Flowers  are  for  heaven ;  and  though  they  bloom  on 

earth,  't  is  true, 
Let  us  not  look,  but  still  for  heaven  reserve  the  view. 

IV.     THE   NOBLE   ECONOMIST. 

What  good  are  tulips  and  roses  profuse  ? 
Potatoes  let  us  raise  ;  they  are  of  use  I 

V.     THE   HOLT   EMBARGO. 

The  priests  will  have  no  precious  product  landed, 
Unless  the  crucifix  is  on  it  branded. 

VI.     INSPIRATION  NOT    LOCALLY   LIMITED. 

Appears  but  to  a  bigoted  and  foolish  elf 
The  Palestinian  Flora  as  Botania's  self. 

VII.     SIGH   OP   A   LAYMAN. 

The  Holy  Ghost  but  Greek  and  Hebrew  knew ; 
Alas  for  us,  illiterate  laic  crew  ! 

VIII.     SIGH   OP  A   THEOLOGIAN. 

Alas  !  the  Holy  Ghost  but  drizzles  drop  by  drop. 
When  a  great  stream  should  burst  the  pen  our  thirst  to 
stop. 


326       POEMS  OTHER  THAN  ORIENTAL. 
IX.  THE  TWO  SHADOWS. 

Behind  the  thing  the  shadow  doth  in  nature  stretch  ; 
Before  the  thing  the  shadow  doth  in  history  reach. 

X.     THE    WORLD   EMPIRICALLY    TREATED. 

All  sickness  is  specific,  Science  doth  assure, 

And  only  special  means  its  ails  can  really  cure. 

To  lack  of  Bibles  do  the  Bible-Unions  tax 

The  world's  diseases  all.     Get  out,  you  arrant  quacks 

XI.     THE   PSYCHOLOGICAL   ORIGIN    OF   MYSTICISM. 

Unnatural  warmth  the  heart's  rich  chamber  filled, 
But  cold  as  Greenland  stood  the  empty  head  ; 

Through  reason's  coldness  feeling's  mist  distilled. 
And  dimmed  the  windows  which  to  nature  led. 

The  vapor,  gathered  thus,  in  ice-flowers  froze  ;  — 

And  from  that  vision  mysticism  rose. 

INCLUSION   ABOVE   NEGATION. 

The  wise  critic  his  power  in  help  displays. 
And  not  in  hurt ;  as  when  great  Goethe  says, 
"  Divide  and  conquer  !  is  a  maxim  fit ; 
"  Unite  and  lead  !  is  a  much  finer  wit.'* 

TO    A   LAZY    GLUTTON  :    LESSING. 

In  eating  you  are  swift ;  in  going,  slow  ;  — 
Eat  with  your  feet,  and  take  your  jaws  to  go ! 


POEMS    OTHEE  THAN    ORIENTAL.  327 


THE   PATHETIC    CONTRADICTION  :    ANASTASIUS    GEUN. 

When  on  her  bashful  mouth  I  hung, 
And  wildly  drew  her  fragrant  breath, 

My  dreams,  why  only,  only  clung 
They  still  to  parting  and  to  death  ? 

And  now,  as  sadly  on  the  grave 

I  stand,  where  she  lies  cold  and  dead, 

Why  do  I  taste  the  kiss  she  gave, 
And  see  her  modest  cheeks  so  red  ? 


THE   MINSTREL  S    BREVITY  :    HOLDERLIN. 

Why  art  thou  all  so  brief?     Lov'st  thou  no  more  the 
song  ? 
When  once  thy  lay  was  heard  in  days  of  youth  and 
Spring, 
It  seemed  as  if  the  strain  could  never  be  too  long ; 
But  now  the  close  is  nigh  whenever  thou  wilt  sing. 


My  song  is  as  my  life.     Woufdst  bathe  thyself  in  light  ? 
Behold, 
The  darkness  settling  round   with  mournful  omen 
stirs ; 
The  sunset  faded  out,  the  earth  is  growing  cold, 
And  close  in  front  the  bird  of  night  uneasy  whirrs. 


328       POEMS  OTHER  THAN  ORIENTAL. 

FROM  THE  RUSSIAN  POET,  LERMONTOFP. 

Rememberest  thou  the  day  when  we  — 

Late  was  the  hour  —  were  forced  to  part  ? 
The  night-gun  boomed  athwart  the  sea ; 

In  painful  silence  beat  each  heart ; 
The  lovely  day  found  cloudy  close  ; 

A  heavy  mist  the  landscape  palled ; 
And  seemed  it,  when  that  shot  arose, 

An  echo  from  the  ocean  called. 

Alone  I  wander  by  the  flood ; 

And  when  a  gun  booms  in  its  might, 
I  think  with  pain  how  we  once  stood 

Together  on  that  parting  night. 
And  as  the  mournful  echoes  roll, 

Muffled,  along  the  fluid  walls, 
From  out  the  caverns  of  my  soul 

Death  answeringly  calls  and  calls. 

POEMS   FROM   THE    GERMAN    OF   NICOLAUS   LENAU. 
I.     MOTTO   TO   LENAU'S   LIFE. 

A  fading  gleam,  a  dying  crash, 

Is  human  life,  perceived  and  gone. 
Whence  comes  the  noise  ?     Where  goes  the  flash  ? 

The  stars  are  dumb  ;  the  waves  roar  on. 


POEMS    OTHER   THAN    ORIENTAL.  329 

II.     PRATER  TO   LETHE. 

O  Lethe  !  break  the  fetters  of  thy  shore, 
And  from  the  shadow-world  upon  me  pour, 
And  let  my  restless  spirit,  wounded  sore, 

Thy  wave  of  healing  drink  ! 

Spring  comes,  with  fragrance,  song,  and  love  awake. 
And  greets  me  as  of  old  ;  a  heavy  ache 
Lets  not  my  heart  respond.     O  Lethe,  make 

Thy  wave  within  me  sink  ! 

III.     THE   PAST. 

The  evening  star,  a  pallid  spark, 

Sadly  shines  and  winks  afar  ; 
Again  a  Day  has  changed  to  dark. 

And  found  the  rest  that  naught  can  mar. 

Upon  the  moonlight,  soft  and  clear. 

Yon  airy  cloudlets  float  away. 
And  out  of  roses  pale  appear 

To  weave  a  crown  for  the  dead  Day. 

Dim  tomb  of  precious  times  gone  by, 

Inexorably  holding  Past ! 
In  thee,  asleep,  my  heart's  pains  lie ; 

Alas  !  its  raptures  too  thou  hast ! 


330  POEMS    OTHER   THAN    ORIENTAL. 

IV.     TRUTH   AND   HYPOCRISY. 

Grief  smote  her  by  surprise 

Amidst  the  giddy  play  ; 
Tears,  raining  from  her  eyes, 

Washed  all  the  rouge  away. 

O  Grief !  thou  art  most  true  ; 

Thou  mak'st  disguises  known  ; 
False  paint  is  trickled  through, 

The  faded  cheeks  are  shown  I 

V.  VANITY    IS   WRETCHED. 

A  heart  that  humble  love  and  toil  surround, 
Is  happy  ;  but  a  heart  on  haughty  ways, 

That  with  great  wishes  goes,  with  woe  is  crowned. 
And  languishes  beneath  its  envied  bays. 

VI.  SHE   CAME   AND   WENT. 

Whene'er  she  came,  her  form  before  me  stood 
As  lovely  as  the  first  green  in  the  wood. 

And  what  she  said  sank  in  my  heart  as  sweet 
As  Spring's  first  song  heard  in  the  grove's  retreat. 

And  when  she  waved  me  with  her  hand  farewell. 
My  latest  dream  of  youth  in  fragments  fell. 


POEMS  OTHER  THAN  ORIENTAL.       331 


VII.  MY  HEART. 


A  sleepless  night ;  the  rain  pours  fast ; 

My  wakeful  heart,  between  the  flurries, 
Now  harks  where  silent  goes  the  past, 

Now  where  the  threatening  future  hurries. 

O  heart,  thy  listening  must  be  bad ; 

Seek  what  enduring  Will  resembles  ; 
Behind  are  heard  complainings  sad, 

And  forward  many  a  question  trembles. 

Whate'er  the  danger,  never  shrink  ; 

The  storm  itself  thy  trust  discloses  ; 
The  boat  with  Christ  no  storm  could  sink ; 

So  in  thy  bosom  God  reposes. 

VIII.     THE  WINTER  CRUCIFIX. 

Stripped  of  its  Christ,  a  naked  cross  I  see 
Upon  the  chff;  as  though  the  winter  storm 

Which,  roaring,  tears  the  leaves  from  every  tree, 
Had  also  torn  from  that  the  God-man's  form. 

Shall  I  therefore  the  horror,  widely  strown, 
Collect,  and  to  a  single  image  mix  ? 

Shall  I  dead  Nature,  clad  in  snow  alone, 
Nail  there  on  yonder  empty  crucifix  ? 


332  POEMS    OTHER   THAN    ORIENTAL. 

IX.     DEPARTURE   OP   ILLUSION. 

Above  each  joy  of  life  I  see 

A  threatening  vulture,  sight  of  dread  ! 
What  I  have  loved,  or  sought  to  be, 

It  all  is  either  lost  or  dead. 

In  Nature's  gloomy  council  dares 
The  human  heart  no  voice  to  bring ; 

Soon  Death,  remorseless  vulture,  tears 
The  joys  that  o'er  our  pathway  wing. 

I  will  not  longer,  fool-like,  seize 

The  foam  that  bright  on  darkness  lies, 

But  with  such  bitter  tears  as  these 

Wash  the  last  dream  from  out  mine  eyes. 

X,     TO   AN   AUTOGRAPH    COLLECTOR. 

The  watchful  hunter,  skilled  in  tracks. 
Can  tell,  from  traces  on  the  snow. 

As  if  they  were  portrayed  in  wax, 
The  feet  of  stag  or  wolf  or  roe. 

To  him  each  foot-script  thus  displayed 
Upon  the  ground,  before  his  eyes. 

Doth,  through  the  shape  its  movement  made, 
Betray  the  writer's  age  and  size. 

So,  from  the  print  its  track  has  formed, 
To  his  perception  it  is  clear 


POEMS  OTHER  THAN  ORIENTAL.       333 

Whether  across  the  meadow  stormed 
A  fawn,  or  sixteen-antlered  deer. 

The  tracks  of  my  shy  soul  dost  think, 

Lover  of  autographs,  O  say. 
To  follow  through  this  lineal  ink. 

As  creeps  the  hunter  to  his  prey  ? 

XI.     THE    DILEMMA. 

Before  thee  a  Dilemma  he  proposes  ; 

With  such  a  logic-fork  will  he  transfix  me  ? 
Between  its  arms,  he  says,  the  truth  it  closes. 

Dost  doubt  ?  Then  flee,  ere  on  its  points  he  sticks  thee. 

Suggests  the  two-prong  of  his  technic  sermons. 
The  journey  of  an  ancient  king  recited. 

In  peasant's  cart  he  fared  among  his  Germans, 
And  as  the  way  was  long,  he  got  benighted. 

The  wagon,  used  to  loads  of  hay,  moves  slowly ; 

The  peasant  lets  the  oxen  trudge  at  leisure. 
The  night  is  fair ;  and  through  the  soul,  made  holy. 

Glides  many  a  picture  of  idyllic  pleasure. 

Behold,  the  moon's  high  horn  serenely  beaming  ! 

The  sluggish  team  between  their  horns  have  caught  it. 
So  he  shall  find  the  truth  in  mid-space  gleaming. 

Who  vainly  on  the  pronged  Dilemma  sought  it ! 


i 


334       POEMS  OTHER  THAN  ORIENTAL. 


XII.  REFUGE. 


Hapless  deer  upon  the  forest  floor, 
Has  the  hunter  given  thee  a  wound  ? 

Flee,  then,  swift  within  the  wood's  dim  core. 
Where  the  hidden  lakelet  spreads  around, 

That  the  gentle  freshness  of  its  wave 

May  thy  throbbing  wound  with  coolness  lave. 

But  man,  when  thy  wounded  bosom  swells, 

Flee  within  thy  household's  inmost  shrine, 
Where  the  purest  fount  of  comfort  wells. 

And  upon  thy  mother's  heart  recline. 
But  the  mother,  ere  a  long  time,  dies. 

Has  thine  own  already  fallen  asleep  ? 
Flee,  then,  where  the  forest  silent  lies, 

With  the  hunted,  wounded  deer,  and  weep  ! 

XIII.     SPRING-GREETING. 

After  long  frost  how  breathes  the  air  so  mild  ! 
Spring  violets  brings  to  me  a  beggar  child. 

Sad,  that  the  earliest  greeting  of  the  Spring 
A  child  of  misery  to  me  must  bring. 

And  yet  the  pledge  of  earth's  sweet  loveliness 
Is  dearer  from  the  hand  of  wretchedness. 

So  bears  to  future  men  our  grief  or  crime 
The  vernal  greeting  of  a  better  time. 


POEMS  OTHER  THAN  ORIENTAL.       335 
XIV.  TO  DEATH. 

When  once  my  heart  begins  to  moulder, 

"When  poesy's  audacious  flame 
And  fires  of  love  already  smoulder, 

Then,  Death  !  in  pieces  break  this  frame. 

Not  slowly  dig,  but  quickly  break  it. 

And  let  thy  singer  soar  away. 
Enrich  his  life-field  not,  nor  rake  it 

With  feeling's  ashes,  Death,  I  pray  ! 

XV.     THE    CEUCinX. 

When  man  towards  heaven  holds  his  trusting  face, 
His  lifted  arms  in  love  outstretching  steady 

To  draw  the  world  unto  his  heart's  embrace, 
He  makes  himself  for  crucifixion  ready. 

Such  love  as  this  upon  the  earth  is  rare ; 

And  that  the  world  might  lose  its  image  never, 
Mankind,  O  Jesus  !  bound,  with  hasty  care, 

Thy  loving  posture  to  the  cross  forever. 

XVI.     O    MY   MOTHER  !• 

Within  my  heart  I  bear  a  hidden  wound, 
And  silently  shall  bear  it  till  I  die  ; 

I  feel  it  gnawing,  gnawing  there  profound. 
While  heavily  the  hours  of  life  go  by. 


336       POEMS  OTHER  THAN  ORIENTAL. 

There  is  but  one  to  whom  I  might  confide 
Without  distrust,  and  freely  tell  her  all, 

Could  I  my  face  upon  her  bosom  hide  ; 
But  she,  alas  !  is  sleeping  in  her  pall. 

0  mother,  come  !     If  still  thy  love  survives. 
Cannot  my  tears  prevail  to  draw  thee  back 

To  help  thy  child,  who  here  in  anguish  strives, 
With  doubt  and  fear  and  grief  upon  the  rack  ? 

1  long  to  leave  this  world  of  undelight. 

Strip  from  my  soul  this  fleshly  wretchedness. 
O  mother,  come  !  as  thou  wert  wont  at  night. 
Thy  weary  child  from  his  sad  life  undress  ! 


PARTINGS    AND    MEETINGS    ON  THE  JOURNEY  OF   LIFE. 

Full  oft,  when  starting  in  life's  morning  road, 

With  fond  associates  of  our  youth. 
Gazing  on  lawns  of  green  with  flowers  strowed, 

Not  on  the  flints  and  thorns  of  truth, 
We  take  our  early  playmates  by  the  hand. 

Just  where  our  paths  grow  strange  amain. 
And  with  more  faith  than  we  do  understand, 

Utter  a  cheerful.  Meet  again  ! 

Full  oft,  when  journeying  o'er  life's  noonday  road, 
We  pine  for  some  companion  dear 


POEMS  OTHER  THAN  ORIENTAL.       337 

Whose  voice  of  love  would  ease  our  toilsome  load, 

And  banish  each  intruding  fear  ; 
And  when  with  such  we  've  travelled  through  the  day, 

We  see  our  paths  diverge  with  pain, 
And  clasping  hands,  beneath  the  sunset  ray, 

We  breathe  a  saddened,  Meet  again ! 

Full  oft,  when  pausing  on  life's  evening  road. 

While  shades  of  night  are  gathering  round. 
All  nameless  agonies  our  hearts  forebode. 

As  sinks  in  faintness  to  the  ground 
Some  fellow-pilgrim,  bound  to  us  through  years 

By  love  and  trust  without  a  stain  ; 
We  kneel  to  bathe  the  well-known  hand  in  tears, 

And  sigh  a  faltering,  Meet  again  ! 

And  O,  amidst  the  disappointments  deep 

Of  this  most  cold  and  selfish  world, 
Where  treacherous  stabs  and  blights  oft  make  us  weep, 

And  jeers  on  gentle  hearts  are  hurled,  — 
And  0,  within  this  life  of  sorrows  dire. 

Of  sundered  souls  and  prayers  vain. 
Our  yearning  hearts  must  in  their  grief  expire. 

Did  we  not  hope  to  meet  again. 


SUPPLEMENT    TO    THE    FOUETH 
EDITION. 


THE    MYSTIC   MONOSYLLABLE. 

Creatures  all  have  come  from  A; 
Firmly  stand  they  now  with  O ; 
Dark  was  all  when  all  was  M. 
S  will  set  the  whole  thing  free : 
Even  mystic  Aom  is  naught 
If  not  unto  Siva  brought. 

:^RAJNA   PARAMITA. 

In  these  distracted  days  men  seek  no  more 
The  wisdom  that  has  reached  the  other  shore. 
The  weak  in  understanding  fail  to  see 
That  every  thing  is  pure  nonentity ; 
But  sages  know  that  all  that  is  or  seems 
Is  made  of  naught  but  shadows,  echoes,  dreams. 
And  those  in  whom  this  freeing  insight  grows 
Have  won  the  path  which  to  Nirwaua  goes. 


840  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 


MAN   AND    THE    WORLD. 


A  few  short  seasons  go  by,  and,  lo !  the  haughtiest  king 
That  was  ever  installed  in  pomp  on  .a  throne,  and  the 
sceptre  bore, 
Gives  up  his  friends  and  his  breath,  and  drops  as  a  life- 
less thing, 
While  the  world  exclaims,  with  a  smile,  "  He,  too,  is 
now  no  more!" 

ONE  OP  Buddha's  sermons. 

The  men  who  waste  their  opportunities  in  youth. 
And  lay  not  up  in  store  good  habits,  love,  and  truth, 
In  their  old  age,  when  joys  and  hopes  no  longer  last, 
Shall  lie,  like  broken  bows,  still  sighing  for  the  past. 

THE    SECRET. 

But  long  enough,  through  tug  and  gasp, 
With  Hegel's  concrete  Logic  wrestle, 

And  that  Becoming  you  shall  grasp 

Wherein  both  Naught  and  Being  nestle. 

THE    STUDY. 

If  you  would  see  the  universe  that  Hegel  saw, 
Enmeshed  and  rolling  in  the  net  of  one  pure  law, 
Then  climb  like  him  the  height  of  philosophic  mind, 
Ripe  lord  of  all  the  speculative  lore  behind. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  341 


THE  SOLUTION. 

All  that  thou  askest  will  be  clear  if  but  thy  soul 
Be  an  interpretative  focus  of  the  whole ; 
Because  the  undulations  of  thy  wishes  still 
Blend  in  the  order  of  the  Universal  Will. 


DUALISM    OF   LIFE. 

Then  fame  is  sweet,  beyond  a  doubt, 
When  Love  within  greets  Praise  without. 

SELF-PROTECTION. 

Whoso  remembers  well  this  triple  truth, 
Shall  keep  himself  from  sin,  in  age  as  youth  : 
God's  ear  doth  hear,  God's  eye  doth  on  thee  look, 
And  all  thy  deeds  are  written  in  God's  book. 

THE  LAW  OF  LEARNING:  FROM  GOETHE. 

If  I  am  unto  thee  the  view  to  show, 
Thou  must  with  me  unto  the  summit  go. 

WHO    SHALL    INTERPRET  ? 

What  is  our  life  ?  the  constant  question  asked  by  man. 
And  what  our  death  ?  the  eternal  answer  given  by  ^od« 


342  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

HEARTS    AND    STARS  :    FROM   THE    FRENCH. 

Each  little  thronging  star  that  shines 

Below  the  eternal  throne, 
Amidst  the  crowd  of  burning  lines, 

Revolves  and  burns  alone. 

Upon  its  earthly  pathway  hurled, 

So  every  human  heart, 
Even  as  that  lone  and  burning  world, 

Aspires  and  beats  apart. 

Mysterious  star,  and  heart  as  well. 

We  little  know,  alas ! 
But  God  can  look  through  both,  and  teU 

The  smallest  things  that  pass. 

LAVATER's    ADVICE. 

He  who  claims 
That  he  aims 
At  the  truth 
As  the  feoff 
Of  the  mind, 
From  his  youth 
Let  him  spy 
With  the  eye 
Of  the  deaf, 
Let  him  hear 
With  the  ear 
Of  the  blind. 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS.  343 

CAMADEVA. 

Sweet  witch,  thy  voice,  thine  eyes,  thy  lips, 

A  threefold  charm  compose,  —  a  charm 
Which  sets  all  others  in  eclipse. 

And  fills  me  with  divine  alarm ; 
For  should  my  lips  thy  lips  but  touch, 

The  maddening  bliss  they  hint  is  such, 
Our  limbs  and  nerves  would  intervolve. 

And  soul  and  body  both  dissolve. 

Heine's  notice  to  his  readers. 

Compressed  Philistine  spirits,  these 
I  have  a  right  to  vex  and  tease ; 
But  all  the  other  style  of  folks. 

The  bold  and  generous  hearts,  will  know 
The  art,  from  out  my  sourest  jokes 

To  see  sweet  love  and  friendship  blow. 

DER    TOD    1ST   DAHER   EINS   MIT    GOTT :    FEUERBACH. 

At  noon  of  day  I  gazed  upon  the  emptiness  of  space, 

And  saw  in  Nothingness  the  Deity  unveil  his  face. 

At  noon  of  night  Death  raised  his  veil  where  slept  the 

grave's  pale  clods : 
Shuddering  with  awe,  I  saw  that  His  face  was  the  samo 

as  God's. 


344  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 

FROM   THE    GERMAN    OF   FEUERBACH. 

In  the  great  Epic  of  Humanity 

The  Christian  Epoch  is  an  Episode 

In  which  the  Poet,  God,  forgets  bis  theme  I 

DEDICATION    FOR   AN   ALBUM. 

Dear  Margaret,  as  these  leaves  no  stain  yet  bear, 
And  your  young  heart  is  spotless  still, 

So  here  let  friendship  breathe  its  fervent  prayer 
That  holy  tributes  both  may  fill. 

Within  these  lids  while  artless  hope  and  thought 
Their  pure  and  simple  offerings  place,  — 

Within  your  heart,  with  heavenly  virtues  fraught, 
May  every  blessing  leave  a  trace. 

Your  album,  Margaret,  thus  I  dedicate 
To  tributes  warm  with  love  and  truth ; 

And  may  its  pages  ever  consecrate 
The  sweetest  memories  of  your  youth. 

Then,  as  in  distant  years  you  think  of  those 
Who  trod  with  you  life's  morning  hour, 

The  cherished  tokens  that  this  book  bestows 
Will  rob  old  Time  of  half  his  power. 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS.  345 

A    HYMN. 

0  Father,  kindly  deign  to  hear 

The  thanks  thy  children  bring ; 
Help  us  with  love  and  reverent  fear 

Thy  lofty  praise  to  sing. 

And  while  before  thy  throne  we  bow, 

Come  Thou  to  every  heart : 
From  sin  oh  purify  us  now ; 

Give  us  that  better  part. 

Remove  to-day  the  world's  wild  din ; 

Our  souls  from  evil  save ; 
Help  us  life's  noblest  crown  to  win; 

Guide  us  beyond  the  grave. 

PRAYERS. 
I. 

Approach,  O  God,  now  I  beseech ; 

Within  thy  love  my  spirit  keep ; 
And  let  thy  still  atomic  touch 

Encrystallize  my  brain  with  sleep. 

II. 

O  boundless  "Watchman,  everlasting  Warder, 
All  weary  frictions,  shocks,  and  jars  remove; 

Adjust  me  with  the  universal  order, 

And  let  me  sweetly  slumber  in  thy  love. 


846  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

III. 

Almighty  One,  in  whom  alone  is  rest, 
Assume  my  sins,  and  clasp  me  to  thy  breast. 

IV. 

The  morning  light,  the  kiss  of  God, 
Dispels  the  darkness  from  mine  eyes : 

Exhale,  my  heart,  like  dewy  sod, 
A  grateful  breath  of  sacrifice ! 

Y. 

Come  now,  O  Lord,  and  with  thy  breath 
Remove  from  me  this  load  of  death. 

THE    CLOSE    OF   A    DAY. 

The  royal  Sun,  just  setting  in  the  west. 

His  blazing  robes  around  him  rolled, 
And,  like  a  monarch,  grandly  sank  to  rest 

Upon  his  couch  of  burnished  gold ; 
While  up  the  sky  her  star-droves  Evening  drave, 

More  lovely  than  a  hundred  morns, 
The  crescent  Moon,  from  out  the  smiling  wave, 

Rose  up  and  shook  her  silver  horns. 

FIT    CHARACTER,   FIT   DEED. 

Of  reason  it  is  a  degrading  abuse, 
The  deeds  of  a  zany  to  fix  upon  Zeus. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  347 

THE  MELANCHOLY  VAPOR :  FROM  THE  GERMAN. 

Thou  gloomy  mist,  whose  dim  shroud  broods 

Upon  the  vale  and  stream, 
To  hide  the  mountain  and  the  woods 

And  every  sunny  gleam, 

Thou  tak'st  away  in  thy  grey  veil 

The  earth  so  broad  and  vast : 
Oh  take  away,  what  makes  me  pale, 

The  ever-haunting  Past ! 

LATE  friendship:  FROM  LENAU. 

'Tis  late,  dear  friend,  that  I  have  found  thee, 

And  I  bewail  the  cruel  fate 
That  not  in  years  of  boyhood  bound  me 

With  thee,  my  bosom's  better  mate. 

Life's  festive  time  long  since  has  vanished, 
The  dreams  of  youth  dissolved  in  air : 

Oh  how  should  I,  ere  they  were  banished. 
Have  joyed  those  dreams  with  thee  to  share ! 

But  since  the  Spring  could  not  unite  us. 
While  breathed  its  roses  and  its  cloves, 

The  calmer  Autumn  shall  requite  us, 
Amid  its  sadly  faded  groves. 


348  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

The  blast  that  strips  the  trees,  loud  blowing, 
Such  chill  and  mournfulness  imparts, 

That  we  shall  never  be  for  going 
Beyond  two  warmly -glowing  hearts ! 

THE    FADED    ROSE:    FROM   LENAU. 

In  turning  o'er  the  pages  of  a  book, 

I  found  a  rose  there,  faded  many  an  hour ; 

And  wholly  vain  were  all  the  pains  I  took 

To  tell  who  once  gave  me  this  withered  flower. 

Ah !  more  and  more,  in  darkening  twilight's  breath, 
Doth  memory  blow  away.     Soon  dust  confronts 

My  earthly  destiny ;  and  then,  in  death, 
I  shall  no  longer  know  who  loved  me  once. 

THE   INVALID   IN   THE    GARDEN:    FROM   LENAU. 

What !  stays  a  nightingale  so  late  ? 

The  blossoms  have  been  withered  long. 
Summer  has  passed  the  fields  in  state. 

And  still  hear  I  a  vernal  song  ? 

0  Spring !  was  it  to  thee  revealed 
That  I  shall  perish  ere  the  year  ? 

And  sendest  thou,  from  some  far  field, 
One  greeting  more  to  me  so  dear  ? 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS  349 

THE    PRESENT   LIFE:     FROM    LENAU. 

'Tis  fortunate,  O  Man,  at  last  thou  learaest, 
In  spite  of  all  the  juggling  of  the  saints, 

With  life  before  the  grave  to  deal  in  earnest : 
This  world  is  not  made  up  of  hollow  feints. 

To  break  illusion's  chain  make  thou  no  halting : 

The  earth  is  but  a  place  for  exercise, 
And  life  itself  a  block  to  help  in  vaulting 

Upon  the  steed  who  bears  us  to  the  skies. 

But  on  the  free,  green  earth's  broad  meadows  pleasant, 
Must  each  one,  through  the  here-allotted  hours, 

His  courser  rule  and  pasture  in  the  present, 
Until  the  grave  its  clods  upon  him  showers. 

DEATH    AND   IMMORTALITY. 

I  stood  on  the  outermost  edge  of  the  world, 

And  gazed  in  the  dreadful  abysses  of  space, 
Thick  columns  of  vapor  so  slowly  upcurled. 

And  swift  ran  the  worlds  on  their  echoless  race ; 
Their  orbs  in  resplendence  gleamed  grandly  afar. 

And  tides  of  blue  ether  around  them  were  poured. 
While  stepped  the  redeemed  on  each  welcoming  star. 

And  wide  through  the  gulfe  the  black  evil-flood  roared. 
Then  came  a  bright  Island  of  Gold  sailing  by ; 

Green  palm-branches  waved  the  sweet  angels  to  me, 


850  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

And  voices  enchanting  called  on  me  to  fly. 

I  could  not  ascend,  and  I  cried,  Death,  for  thee : 
That  instant  thy  face  and  thy  work  were  made  clear, 
And  never  again  shall  I  view  thee  with  fear. 

MY   BIRTHPLACE    VISITED. 

ITeai.^,  years  have  passed.     I  have  returned  once  more 
To  new  the  sacred  spot  where  I  was  born, 
And  muse  me  back  unto  my  natal  morn. 

The  Silver  pond  with  kisses  laves  its  shore 
As  when  I  sailed  upon  its  breast  a  boy. 

Around  the  homestead  stand  the  well-known  trees 

Whose  iriurmur  lulled  me  oft  with  summery  breeze. 
And  yet  to  stand  here  is  but  little  joy : 

My  mind  is  busy  with  the  days  long  gone ; 
And,  though  the  sky  of  youth  is  overhead. 
My  steps  are  slow,  —  they  fall  among  the  dead. 

Before  me,  marked  by  many  a  mouldering  stone, 
My  fathers  and  my  early  friends  are  sleeping  low. 
Spirits,  I  feel  you  o'er  me.     Bless  me  ere  I  go ! 

A   MIDNIGHT   MOOD. 

It  is  the  solemn  midnight's  silent  hour, 

And  shadows  vast  are  creeping  o'er  the  earth. 
With  feelings  hushed  and  awed  from  careless  mirth, 

I  sit  alone ;  and  thought's  unbounded  power 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  351 

Doth  bring  to  me  whate'er  I  wisli  or  love. 

Both  Time  and  Space,  like  hounds,  it  drives  away, 
And  calls  before  me  wonders  while  I  pray. 

O  God !  from  round  thy  throne  in  heaven  above, 

Send  thou  some  spirit-friends  to  cheer  my  heart, 
As  in  the  earth-life  here  it  strives  to  gain 
That  love  and  wisdom  high  from  joy  and  pain 

Which  will  prepare  it  for  its  heavenly  part. 

They  come,  and,  lo  !  amidst  that  dim  and  mystic  band, 
One  form  of  earth  I  see,  and  clasp  her  proffered  hand. 

THE    CONTAINING   LIMIT. 

That  he  who  praises  you  without  reserve  or  bound 
Has  any  real  love  for  you,  you  well  may  doubt. 

Upon  the  least  reflection,  will  it  not  be  found 

That  where  there  are  no  bounds  the  contents  must 
faU  out? 

RUDENESS   AND    REFINEMENT. 

"When  a  delicate  spirit  is  thrown 

With  a  spirit  unfeeling  and  vain, 
Of  the  jar  that  results,  be  it  known 

That  the  finer  one  suffers  the  pain. 
The  plebeian  the  victory  takea, 

In  collision  of  yeoman  with  earl : 
Is  it  not  the  more  precious  that  breaks 

When  a  pebble  encounters  a  pearl  ? 


352  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

SELF-CONCEALMENT. 

In  vain  dost  thou  thyself  behind  thyself  conceal, 
For  God  will  still  thyself  before  thyself  reveal. 

THE   student's   VISION. 

A  student  sat  in  his  study  dim, 

Reading  of  themes  that  gladdened  him, 

When  suddenly  from  the  page  arose 

A  vapory  mist  like  that  which  goes 

From  a  lake  when  mom  is  in  the  skies; 

And  in  that  mist  were  his  Lady's  eyes, 

Looking  to  him  a  world  of  sad  love, 

Like  that  of  saints  to  the  saints  above. 

He  saw  her  snowy  teeth,  and  her  lips 

To  which  from  her  eyes  each  sweet  smile  skips ; 

And  her  soft  cheeks  suffused  with  such  flush 

As  into  a  rose  a  lily  should  blush. 

His  inmost  soul  was  thrilling  with  bliss 

As  he  bent  him  down  those  lips  to  kiss. 

But,  ah  !  they  vanish,  vanish  away ; 

And  a  mournful  smile  doth  seem  to  say. 

More  plaintively  far  than  words  can  tell, 

"  I  have  passed  away :  farewell,  farewell !  ** 

The  student  gazes  with  fixed  look,  — 

But  on  the  leaves  of  his  open  book. 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS.  353 

Was  this  a  dream  ? 

O,  no :  for  his  betrothed 
That  day  was  dead,  while  he,  afar,  knew  not ; 
And,  on  its  homeward  way  to  heaven,  her  soul 
Had  paused  to  visit  him  she  loved  in  life. 
And  in  the  spirit-land  would  not  forget. 
And  longer  then  with  him  that  soul  had  stayed 
But  for  his  thought  and  deed  of  earthly  love. 
By  these  'twas  stained,  and  God  would  not  permit 
An  angel  visible  to  linger  near 
Him  any  more.     Yet  afterwards  this  soul, 
Unseen,  with  his  he  often  knew. 

.    Full  soon, 
With  torn  and  bleeding  heart,  the  cup  of  bliss 
Dashed  brimming  from  his  lips,  he  learned  that  she, 
The  strength  unto  his  soul,  star  to  his  mind, 
And  the  great  gladness  of  his  life,  was  gone. 
Forever  gone  from  earth. 

He  long  survived, 
A  blighted  and  a  sorrowing  man.     His  heart 
Was  like  a  tree  leaf-stripped  and  desolate. 
In  whose  dry  boughs  no  bird  doth  pause  to  sing. 
The  memory  of  this  fair  youthful  love. 
Oh  vague  and  melancholy !  haunted  him, 
And  haunted  him  for  aye.     Never  did  he 
Forget,  I  ween,  the  sacred  vision  once 
He  saw,  alone,  within  that  study  dim. 


354  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

THE    beggar's    death. 

One  winter  night  the  storm  was  loud, 
When  in  a  mansion,  rich  and  proud, 
A  fire  upon  the  hearth  burned  bright, 
And  from  the  windows  streamed  the  light. 

A  weary  beggar,  lame  and  old, 

Sought  refuge  from  the  bitter  cold. 

Some  bread  he  asked,  for  Christ's  dear  sake : 

The  door  was  shut  while  yet  he  spake. 

The  old  man  uttered  no  complaint, 
But  laid  him  down,  forlorn  and  faint. 
Then  clasped  his  hands,  and  prayed  to  heaven 
That  those  hard  hearts  might  be  forgiven. 

O'erhead  the  trees  their  dry  limbs  creaked, 
And  wildly  by  the  tempest  shrieked. 
O  pride  and  hate !  the  beggar  sighed. 
Then  feebly  closed  his  eyes,  and  died. 

And  why  was  he  thus  driven  to  die  ? 
Did  he  the  laws  of  heaven  defy  ? 
Of  dreadful  crimes  was  he  a  doer  ? 
Oh,  no,  —  the  hapless  wretch  was  poor/ 

Of  Christ  himself  was  it  not  said. 
He  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head  ? 
The  ills  of  earth  will  find  their  cure 
When  Christ  is  seen  in  all  the  Poor. 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  355 


NOW   IS    THE    TIME. 


Some  unknown  one  has  said, 

He  doubles 

His  troubles 

Who  borrows 

To-morrow's. 
And  I  venture  to  add, 

That  he  offsets 

To-morrow's  debts 

Who  pays 

To-day's. 

BT-GONE    TIMES. 

Full  oft  in  the  hours  of  vanishing  night 
I  think  of  the  years  sped  swiftly  away. 

And  call  to  my  mind,  in  memory's  light, 

The  friends  that  I  knew  in  life's  sunny  May. 

Oh,  then  to  my  heart  too  dear  are  the  hours 

That  went  like  the  leaves  borne  by  on  a  stream, 

When  first  with  my  Love  I  roved  in  these  bowers 
Where  life,  youth,  and  hope  are  one  in  a  dream. 

That  dream !  —  oh,  away,  ye  memories  dear 
That  gather  about  the  happiest  days 

This  heart  ever  knew.     Will  never  appear 
The  truth  of  that  dream  in  life's  busy  maze  I 


356  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

The  ashes  are  pale  which  thrice-holy  fires 
Of  love  and  romance  once  kindled  so  bright : 

In  darkness  and  grief  my  heart  still  aspires 

The  dreams  of  that  time  to  clasp  till  death's  night. 

THE    SIXTIETH    BIRTHDAY. 

We  meet  to  give  you  cordial  greeting,  brother  Ross  ! 

Fast  in  your  honor  shall  our  steaming  tea-cups  flow ; 
And,  hoarding  all  your  by-gone  days  without  a  loss, 

We  drink  the  memory  of  sixty  years  ago ! 

An  honest  man  and  genial  are  you,  brother  Ross ; 
And,  while  we  hope  that  to  the  end  your  joys  may 
grow, 
We  praise  the  cheerfulness  with  which  you've  borne 
each  cross. 
Since  first  you  entered  life,  now  sixty  years  ago. 

We  recognize  your  faithful  friendship,  brother  Ross : 
It 's  worth  a  thousand  fickle  contrasts  make  us  know. 

You  have  not  been  a  rolling  stone  that  gains  no  moss, 
But  ever  firm  and  true,  since  sixty  years  ago. 

Though   in   your   mind   experience  has   its    treasures 
rained. 

And  on  your  head  has  fallen  many  a  winter's  snow, 
Your  soul  with  guile  or  meanness  is  as  little  stained, 

Your  heart  as  young  to-night,  as  sixty  years  ago. 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  357 

We  envy  you  your  even  temper,  brother  Ross : 

Its  steady  radiance  keeps  your   face   and  house  in 
glow, 

It  makes  us  think  no  mortal  ever  saw  you  cross ; 
Still  shine  it  as  it  has  since  sixty  years  ago. 

And  when  you  pass  the  great  ordeal,  brother  Ross,  — 
Far  off  may  that  time  be,  and  be  its  motion  slow,  — 

May  the  Divine  Refiner  say.  He 's  free  from  dross 
As  when  he  first  was  born,  a  hundred  years  ago ! 

THE    LIFE    OF   MAN. 
FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF  AliOYS  SCHREIBEB. 

In  the  world,  an  outcast  utter. 
Stands  the  man,  forsaken  there : 

Winds  are  raging,  tempests  mutter,  — 
Nothing  touches  his  despair. 

Loving  call  to  him  the  star-host, 
And  exhort  him,  too,  the  flowers : 

"  Gaze  not  sadly  at  the  far-most : 
Know,  O  Man,  that  thou  art  ours." 

While  with  sighings  deep  he  presses 
Earth  and  heaven  to  his  heart, 

With  her  gentle  tear-caresses 
Love  assuages  sorrow's  smart. 


358  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

From  the  cold  no  field  is  living,  — 
Each  young  floweret  has  its  grave ; 

In  the  earth,  without  misgiving, 
Thrusts  he  down  his  pilgrim  stave. 

And  with  hope,  in  glad  surrender, 
Towards  the  starry  choir  he  turns ; 

Straightway  then  a  blossom  tender 
Forth  from  out  the  dry  wood  burns. 

His  companions  all  desert  him, 

And  to  danger  him  expose ; 
No  one  halves  the  ills  that  hurt  him, 

Weigh  upon  him  age's  snows. 
« 
Anxious  seeks  he  for  the  dwelling 

Where  his  cradle  once  did  stand : 
It  is  changed  beyond  his  telling,  — 

No  one  gives  a  greeting  hand. 

Yet  with  faith  his  bosom  yearneth ; 

Looks  he  towards  the  heaven's  blue  source 
Ah,  my  youth  no  more  returneth, 

And  completed  is  my  course ! 

Much  becomes  of  Time  the  booty ; 

Yet  not  all  can  fade  away : 
One  whom  still  to  trust  is  duty 

Is  there,  —  Him  the  stars  survey. 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  359 

Love  on  can  I,  trusting,  ho[)ing : 

This  a  light  in  darkness  makes, 
And  I  see  the  heaven  oping, 

When  my  heart  in  dying  breaks. 


A    CANTATA    OF    THE    SWISS    CHILDREN   IN    SPRING. 
I. 

Old  Winter,  wrapped  in  icy  blasts,  hath  fled ; 

The  budding  charms  of  youthful  Spring  appear ; 
Heaven  holds  its  bluest  banner  overhead ; 

The  fields  their  mats  of  green  fling  far  and  near. 

IL 

And  now  the  Switzer  girls  and  boys 

All  gathered  on  the  village  slope. 
With  song  and  dance  and  gladsome  noise 

Keep  time  and  tune  with  love  and  hope. 

III. 
The  avalanches  raise  their  voices  dread ; 

The  chainless  torrents  rush,  and  sing  aloud ; 
The  lammergeyer,  his  wings  with  lightning  red, 

Outlines  himself  against  the  thunder-cloud. 

IV. 

With  sprigs  and  flowers  among  their  curls, 
With  heart  to  heart,  and  hand  in  hand, 

The  merry  Switzer  boys  and  girls, 
A  crown  of  beauty,  deck  the  land. 


360  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

V. 

The  Alps  uprear  in  heaven  their  snowy  domes, 
The  precipices  gleam,  the  dark  pine  waves ; 

The  sons  of  liberty  here  build  their  homes : 
A  scene  like  this  was  never  meant  for  slaves. 

VL 

With  bounding  sport,  with  laughing  shrieks, 
The  children  shake  their  wreaths  in  glee ; 

While  hunters  shout  from  distant  peaks, 

"  Halloo  !  halloo !  we  're  free !  we  're  free ! " 

VII. 

But  threatening  clouds  across  the  heavens  crawl ; 

A  sudden  hush  on  vale  and  summit  broods. 
It  breaks :  how  thick  the  big  black  raindrops  fall  I 

And  floating  ghosts  forsake  their  solitudes. 

vin. 

Before  the  frown  on  Nature's  brow, 
Still  leaping,  shouting  in  their  bliss, 

The  children  scamper  homeward  now. 
And  greet  their  mothers  with  a  kiss. 

IX. 

And,  lo !  above  those  homes,  without  a  scar 
The  sky  looks  forth  again ;  the  tempest  dies ; 

The  Alpine  horns  their  echoes  blow  afar ; 
The  smile  of  God  on  all  the  landscape  lies. 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS.  361 

X. 

And  when  full  soon  the  summer's  bloom 
Has  riped  in  turn  these  boys  and  girls, 

They  too  shall  think,  o'er  spade  and  broom, 
Good  children  are  their  country's  pearls. 

MEANNESS    AND    NOBILITY. 

'Tis  the  motto  of  meanness  and  pride, 
K  this  man  doth  belong  to  our  set 
He  is  welcome  to  all  we  enjoy. 

Be  he  one  of  the  medley,  outside. 
We  will  every  measure  employ 
That  among  us  he  never  be  met. 

But  the  nobly  descended  in  soul 

Opens  wide  all  he  has  to  the  whole. 

THE    BEST    SACRIFICE. 

The  vying  worshippers  of  God 

One  time  their  various  offerings  brought : 
A  thousand  altars  decked  the  sod. 

Each  worshipper  acceptance  sought 
To  crown  his  gift  above  the  rest. 
And  mark  his  sacrifice  the  best. 
Among  the  thousand  kneeling  there, 
"With  love  or  pride  or  fear  in  prayer, 
A  saint  obscure  and  nameless  stood, 
Silent  amid  the  noisy  brood. 


362  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

And,  while  the  rest  in  show  essayed 
To  have  their  altars  best  arrayed 
With  deeds  or  words  or  forms  of  art, 
This  man  drew  from  his  aching  heart 
The  dearest  sacrifice  of  all. 
Which  on  the  loving  God  can  call. 
And  while  the  other  altars  still 
Are  cold  and  dark  with  omens  ill, 
This  one  the  sacred  lightnings  fold, 
And  wrap  it  in  a  blaze  of  gold. 
What  magic  sacrifice  is  this, 
That  brings  its  offerer  such  a  bliss  ? 
Of  all  religious  mysteries 

The  deepest  one  is  here  displayed. 
The  other  shrines  bear  boasts :  on  his 

His  inmost  egotism  is  laid. 
Man's  purest  offering  is  still 
The  sacrifice  of  his  self-will : 
Of  this  be  thou  but  dispossessed. 
And  God  will  clasp  thee  to  his  brea  ;t. 

RETRIBUTION. 

And  still  it  is  the  transcendental  creed 

Of  all  who  feel  the  spirit  through  the  letter, 

That  God  rewards  us  best  for  a  good  deed 
By  giving  us  the  power  to  do  a  better. 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  363 

INSPIRATION. 

Heaven  dropped  a  star  upon  my  patli  one  night: 
I  picked  it  up,  nor  since  have  lacked  for  light. 

FAITH. 

Still  the  gifts  of  God  our  hopes  outrun : 
Searching  with  a  lamp,  I  found  the  sun. 

CHRISTMAS  HYMN.     1845. 

Jesus  has  lived !  and  we  would  bring 
The  world's  glad  thanks  to-day, 

And  at  his  feet,  while  anthems  ring, 
The  grateful  offering  lay. 

Jesus  has  lived !  and  his  pure  life. 

So  perfect  and  sublime, 
Shall  conquer  man's  dark  sin  and  strife 

Through  every  rank  and  clime. 

Jesus  has  died !  and  o'er  the  stars 

Gone  home  to  God  on  high ; 
He  burst  the  grave's  cold  prison-bars, 

And  said,  Man  cannot  die. 

Jesus  yet  lives  !  and  from  the  sky, 

Where  victory  he  wrote. 
Before  the  good  man's  closing  eye 

Visions  of  glory  float. 


364  MISCELLANEOUS    TOEMS. 

Jesus  yet  lives !  and  oh,  may  we, 

While  in  this  valley  dim, 
So  feel  our  immortality 

That  we  may  he  like  him ! 

HYMN  AT  DIVINITY   SCHOOL.      1847. 

Within  the  shadow  of  his  cross  we  stand, 
Whose  words  are  wisdom  to  our  youth, 

And  pray  that  he  will  bless  our  humble  band. 
And  consecrate  us  to  the  truth. 

Oh,  be  his  deathless  love  of  God  and  man, 

And  faith  in  truth,  the  living  power 
Whose  fruit  shall  crown  our  Christian  toils,  and  span 

With  heavenly  hopes  the  dying  hour. 

Come  down,  his  holy  Spirit  from  above. 
Direct  each  mind,  and  warm  each  heart, 

And  ere  we  go,  to  speak  the  truth  in  love  ' 

Each  one  anoint  and  set  apart. 

We  are  but  twelve,  and  all  the  fields  are  white 

With  harvests  wide  of  worth  untold  : 
Lord,  give  us  tongues  of  fire  and  souls  of  might, 

And  make  us  like  thy  Twelve  of  old. 

INSTALLATION  OF  THOMAS  STARR  KING. 

Before  thee.  Lord,  a  servant  bows, 

To  set  himself  apart  in  youth 
And  breathe  his  consecrating  vows 

To  preach  salvation  through  the  truth. 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  365 

He  does  not  trust  in  human  lore, 
Or  pride,  for  strength  to  walk  aright, 

But  in  thy  Word,  which  from  of  yore 
Has  guided  men  through  faith  to  sight. 

With  holy  love  his  heart  inspire. 

His  mind  with  heavenly  wisdom  fill, 
And  touch  his  faltering  lips  with  fire 

To  teach  the  lessons  of  thy  will. 
Within  these  courts  prolong  his  years 

Of  labor  for  a  faithful  flock ; 
Anc)  if  assailed  by  foes  and  fears, 

Be  thou  his  friend  and  wall  of  rock. 

ELTSHA  KENT  KANE.     BOSTON,  1857. 

Why  breathes  the  slow  and  solemn  dirge  ? 

What  means  this  hushed  and  sad  array  ? 
This  badge-decked  crowd  what  motives  urge 

To  leave,  to-night,  the  world's  vain  play? 

A  saintly  hero  from  us  gone 

Before  the  noontide  of  his  years, 
His  fame  and  genius  in  their  dawn, 

Demands  our  tribute-thrills  and  tears. 

A  band  of  brothers,  we  have  met 

To  weigh  the  story  of  his  life, 
And  o'er  his  holy  traits  forget 

The  hardening  cares  of  daily  strife. 


866  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

Though  nations  join  in  mourning  him, 
We,  mystic  brothers,  mourn  the  most ; 

For  with  lamenting  hearts  we  hymn 
The  noblest  one  of  all  our  host. 

As  thus  we  pause  to  contemplate 
Thy  deeds,  it  shall  not  be  in  vain 

That  we  are  charged  to  emulate 
Thy  virtues  rare,  immortal  Kane. 

FROM  CONCORD  TO  BOSTON.     MAY  6,  1867. 

The  dew  is  on  the  grass, 
The  sun  is  in  the  sky ; 

The  swollen  brooklets  pass, 
The  cars  in  thunder  fly. 

The  engine  pauses  now ; 

The  lifted  window  through 
Fresh  morning  laves  my  brow 

From  out  the  cloudless  blue. 
The  glens  are  gloomy  here, 

The  tree-tops  glitter  there, 
And  birds  with  carols  clear 

Besprinkle  all  the  air. 

From  hamlet-rooft  up-curl 
The  early  smokes  in  peace ; 

Beneath  I  hear  the  swirl 
Of  rills,  the  gabbling  geese. 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  367 

The  hill-side  slopes  outspread, 

The  vales  in  sun-mist  glow ; 
All  heaven  is  overhead, 

Spring  everywhere  below. 

My  heart  to  Nature's  smile 

Leaps  out  in  boyish  glee ; 
From  slavish  toil  and  guile 

I  once  again  am  free. 

Behold  yon  farmer-boy 

Amidst  the  sparkling  fields. 
Half  conscious  of  the  joy 

Untainted  being  yields. 

What  visions  wander  back 

From  childhood's  careless  years. 

Beheld  o'er  memory's  track 

Through  gilding  smiles  and  tears  I 

The  Babel  ways  of  men 

Are  quite  forgotten  now : 
Once  more  I  feel  as  when 

I  hid  me  in  the  mow. 

My  steps  fond  fancy  takes 

"Where  still  the  well-sweep 
And  every  heart-string  aches 

With  mingled  bliss  and  pangs, 


368  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

We  reach  the  jangling  town, 

Alas !  its  dust  and  roar 
The  winsome  landscape  drown, 

And  my  snatched  dream  is  o'er. 

Yet  here  in  turmoils  vain, 

Through  days  of  sin  and  noise, 

This  glimpse  I  shall  retain 
Of  rural  peace  and  joys. 

FOURTH  OF  JULY.      BOSTON,  1857. 

Now  bend  we  low,  and  ask  our  fathers'  God 

To  smile  on  all  o'er  which  our  banner  waves,  — 

The  busy  mart,  the  deck,  the  prairie  sod, 

Old  Plymouth  roofs,  new  San  Francisco  graves. 

Commending  unto  Him,  the  only  Good, 
This  country  as  one  undivided  fold, 

Our  patriot  hearts  o'er  all  its  borders  brood, 
From  Eastern  pines  to  Western  strand  of  gold. 

And  thus  to  heaven  our  pleading  accents  call : 
May  wrong  and  strife  among  us  disappear ; 

And  soon  their  sacred  rights  be  given  to  all. 
While  truth  and  love  lead  in  a  Golden  Year ! 

A  HIGHER  DEVOTION. 

Away,  O  Fame !     Thy  star  has  set. 

To  charm  me  never  more : 
Thine  airy  visions  I'll  forget ; 

Thy  luring  dreams  are  o'er. 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  869 

God's  love,  a  flaming  sun,  appears, 

To  fix  my  wandering  eyes ; 
It  hides  each  feebler  orb  that  steers 

Along  the  lighted  skies. 

Rule  now,  O  Lord,  in  this  poor  heart 

That  driveth  Fame  away : 
That  thy  true  reign  may  not  depart, 

My  God,  I  deeply  pray. 

A.  BIRTHDAY.     1872. 

While  in  this  world,  though  deep  delusions  mask  it, 
Forth  underneath  the  sun  of  truth  to  bask  get; 
And,  freshly  still  to  have  your  mental  flask  wet, 
Seek  nectared  meanings  in  each  outward  casket. 
In  sport  unbent,  or  closely  at  your  task  yet, 
Whenever  comes  an  interruption,  ask  it, 
^^^ Art  thou  a  secret  sign  divinely  sent  me  ? 
Then  show  me  clear  the  clew  of  guidance  lent  thee. 
While  I  conspire,  whatever  Fate's  intent  be. 
To  say  with  all,  *  This,  this  forever  meant  we !  "* 
Live  thus ;  for  you,  when  taxing  years  shall  spent  flee. 
Possess  an  endless  lease  of  being,  rent  free. 

THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND  THE  UNIVERSAL. 

The  conscious  life  of  thought  and  deed  has  ebbs  and  flows ; 
The  deeper  automatic  life  no  ceasing  knows. 
Our  personality  in  that  asserts  its  will ; 
But  this  the  laws  of  universal  being  fiU. 


370  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

Then,  when  men  sleep,  God  wakes,  and  in  them  rules, 
To  equalize  knaves,  saints,  philosophers  and  fools  ? 
Ah,  no ;  for,  while  they  sleep  they  dream,  and  in  their 

dreams 
The  quality  of  what  they  are  still  works  and  gleams, 
And  base  from  noble,  good  from  ill,  distinguished  seems. 
So  both  our  waking  and  our  sleeping  may  conceal 
Or  private  whims  or  public  truths ;  and  what  we  feel, 
Or  do  not  feel,  betray  ourselves  or  God  reveal. 
The  mystic  scorns  his  thoughts  and  wishes  as  malign, 
But  blindly  holds  his  intuitions  for  divine  : 
The  true  believer,  scientific  and  devout. 
Tries  all  by  tests  of  criticism  and  of  doubt. 

THE  SELF-DEFEATING  JOURNEY. 

The  same  tide  pulses  in  the  abyss  and  in  the  shoal. 
From  end  to  end  the  central  undulations  roll, 
And  every  part  contains  the  spirit  of  the  whole. 
In  vain  man  seeks  a  way  to  God  outside  his  soul : 
No  path  can  lead  unto  an  omnipresent  goal. 

I.    THE  PAIN  OF   SOCIETY, 

Alas,  fair  Friendship,  heavenly  Fawn  on  earthly  ground, 
Thy  scent  I  cannot  shun,  thy  lair  I  have  not  found. 

n.    THE  GLORY  OF   SOLITUDE. 
Phanix  sola  facta  solum  Deum  sequar. 

With  no  companionship  except  my  own. 
That  T  alone  may  soar  to  God  alone. 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  871 

III.    THE  RECONCILIATION. 

Ah,  vainly  thus   our   yearning   hearts  may  ache  and 
reach : 
The  answer  to  our  longing  never  will  be  found 
Till  all  shall  recognize  that  God  is  hid  in  each, 

And,  hunting  not  for  him  the  universe  around, 
In  each  kind  face  perceive  what  Fate  through  Time 
would  teach. 

IV.    THE  RESULT. 

I  hold  the  laws  of  truth,  so  far  as  understood. 

To  be  the  will  of  God,  and  perfect  in  their  good : 

And  all  the  awful  mysteries  of  things  unknown 

I  also  hold  decreed  from  his  unbounded  throne. 

Since  known  and  unknown  rest  alike  on  him  alone, 

No  room  is  left  for  me  to  question  or  rebel 

While  ranging  through  the  blended  spheres  of  heaven 

and  hell. 
Happen  what  may,  above  or  underneath  the  sun, 
I  only  say,  Thy  will,  0  God,  not  mine,  be  done ! 


APPENDIX  TO  THE  FIFTH  EDITION. 


THE   GRIEF   OF   BUDDHA. 


Soon  as  the  keeper  Sun  upraised  the  latch 

To  let  the  morning  in,  Gotdma  rose 

And  looked  through  every  path  in  which  man  goes, 

To  see  what  souls  the  truth  that  day  should  catch, 

And  guide  in  ways  that  to  Nirwana  lead, 

Where  sighing  ends  and  wounds  no  longer  bleed. 

And  still,  as  forth  the  flawless  truth  he  threw. 

And  watched  the  trembling  bait,  the  saving  clew. 

The  deepest  sorrow  that  the  Teacher  knew, 

Was  not  the  lack  of  love  and  praise  his  due. 

But  that  the  unappreciating  crew 

Were  to  the  truth  all  blinded  through  and  through 

Which  first,  himself  into  Nirwana  drew. 

Neglect  in  loneliness  is  still  the  grief. 

In  every  age,  of  him  who  ranks  as  chief 

Who  once  hadst  none  to  hearken  or  to  bow, 


374  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

Great  Buddha,  millions  think  upon  thee  now ; 

Their  honors  cluster  on  thy  mighty  brow, 

Their  prayers  with  power  unmatched  thy  name  endow. 

Oh,  if,  in  future  ages,  one  should  come, 

Like  thee  again,  amidst  the  human  hum, 

Superior,  alone,  whose  yearning  heart 

Is  nigh  to 'break,  it  is  so  set  apart,  — 

Neglected  or  rejected  by  the  throng,  — 

When  tempted  oft  to  feel  his  insights  wrong. 

Let  him  recall  thy  fate,  and  thus  grow  strong. 


THE  TREASURE  AND  THE  HAND. 

When  I  dive  in  the  sea  and  return  with  no  pearl, 
As,  all  dripping,  I  come  once  again  to  the  strand, 
No  complaint  at  the  covetous  sea  do  I  hurl ; 
For  I  know  that  the  blame  is  alone  in  my  hand. 
An  abundance  of  pearls  overspread  the  deep  sand, 
But  an  unlucky  fortune  has  blinded  my  hand. 
Over  riches  unsounded  the  bright  billows  curl, 
And  no  curse  but  a  blessing  upon  them  I  swirl. 
Oh,  I  never  will  stand  with  the  arrogant  band 
Who  their  fingers  at  Fate  still  conceitedly  twirl. 
Lord  of  Fate  !  let  a  smile  from  thy  features  unfurl, 
And  remove  the  unfortunate  luck  of  my  hand ! 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS.  375 


SELF-SURPRISE. 


Wouldst  know  thyself  as  thou  art  known  by  God  alone  1 
Conceive  thyself  as  wholly  to  thyself  unknown ; 
Then  for  thy  secret  traits  in  silent  ambush  lie, 
And  see  what  starts  when  strong  temptations  travel  by. 

THE   TRUE   SHEKINAH. 

A  hundred  times  around  the  world  in  tears  I  went, 
My  God  to  find,  and  vainly  sought  him  everywhere. 
One  day  his  love  to  me  this  guiding  message  sent : 
"  Forsake  these  painful  roads,  and  to  thy  heart  repair." 
I  turned  within,  and  lo !  His  dazzling  face  was  there. 

THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  THORN. 

The  bulbuls  not  alone  adore  the  rose 
With  bleeding  breasts,  and  notes  in  sweet  accord  ; 
But  every  thorn,  that  on  the  rose-bush  grows, 
With  hidden  tongue  doth  praise  the  Lord. 

THE   RANK    OF   VALUES. 

I  offered  a  conceited  cock,  one  mom. 

The  rarest  pearls  ever  from  ocean  torn. 

He  spurned  them  with  his  claws,  and  crowed  for  com  i 


376  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 


THE   THREAD   OP   ARIADNE. 

To  two  religions  take  this  clear  and  simple  clew : 
The  dead  man's  ashes  in  an  urn  the  heathen  roll ; 
A  heavenly  future  is  the  mausoleum  blue 
In  which  with  pious  faith  the  Christians  shrine  the 
soul. 

EROS-PHANES. 

The  gods  are  thy  laughs,  —  they  blossom  into  light; 
But  men  are  thy  tears,  —  they  vanish  into  night. 

THE    MASQUE   OF   LIFE. 

This  world  is  but  a  stage,  and  life  a  show. 
Great  Shakespeare  said,  —  and  still  we  find  it  so. 
The  actors  seem  like  shadows  in  a  glass, 
That  swiftly  come,  and  look,  and  part,  and  pass. 
But,  deep  within  those  vizards,  souls  are  shrined, 
With  pedigrees  immense,  though  veiled  and  blind, 
Whose  loaded  and  illumined  tokens  show. 
In  traces  mute,  the  lines  they  bring  below,  — 
No  two  of  all  alike.     What  roles  divine 
Have  they  once  played,  what  destinies  malign 
Endured,  in  that  unbounded  time  behind. 
Whose  sightless  treasures  constitute  their  mind  ! 
Whenever  one  is  seen  amons:  the  rest 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  377 

In  figure  that  proclaims  transcendent  guest, 

What  thrills  of  awe,  desire,  amazement,  zest. 

Arise  and  burn  within  the  wondering  breast ! 

The  speechless  histories  of  heaven  and  hell 

Beneath  those  mystic  features  breathe  and  swell. 

While  still  their  secrets,  in  mysterious  ways. 

Allure  and  baffle  the  bewildered  gaze, 

As  now  the  symbols  darken,  now  they  blaze. 

No  uninitiated  spy  appears 

In  these  phantasmal  roamers  of  the  spheres. 

Though  spells  Lethean  cause  them  to  appear 

As  awkward  supernumeraries  here. 

The  incarnate  actors  of  the  play  of  life 

Have  borne  their  parts  through  all  the  kosmic  strife. 

Their  various  grades  of  rank  —  slaves,  kings,  or  gods  — 

Are  hid,  as  through  his  role  each  player  plods 

Disguised  in  folds  of  his  oblivious  frame, 

Through  which  dread  omens  gleam  in  pride  or  shame. 

And  so,  in  musings  lost,  amidst  the  maze. 

Upon  the  passing  masks  of  men  I  gaze, 

To  see,  beyond  all  peering  of  the  eye. 

If  there  I  may  some  glimpse  of  God  descry. 

THE   EXHORTATION    OF    DSCHELALEDDIN    RUMI. 

Let  not  this  low  empire  of  change  thy  soul  elate, 
Nor  all  its  passing  joys  thy  thought  intoxicate. 
Presume  not,  slave  of  change,  to  think  that  thou  art  free. 


378  .  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

From  every  transient  object,  purified  and  clear, 

He  is  free  alone  who  drinks  that  draught  of  unity 

Whose  drops  impart  the  taste  of  all  eternity. 

His  circle  rolls  above  this  planetary  sphere, 

Where  still  the  goblet  gleams,  without  alloy  of  sense. 

And,  to  the  deathless  kings  of  love  and  truth  immense, 

The  wine  of  souls  the  everlasting  Host  presents. 

THE  VEDANTIST   PHILOSOPHY. 

When  dense  illusions  from  the  spirit  fall, 
It  sees  but  one  reality  in  all. 
In  striving  that  this  vision  may  be  won 
By  all  who  through  this  empty  lifetime  run, 
The  aim  is  that  they  may  themselves  become 
The  absolute  and  solitary  One, 
Who  but  reflects  Himself  in  endless  sum 
Of  blind  and  waiting  mirrors,  each  in  turn 
Ordained  with  knowledge  of  the  truth  to  bum. 
When  there  was  nothing  else  to  love  He  loved 
Himself,  and,  to  increase  the  bliss,  was  moved, 
The  Self  in  many  forms  to  multiply, 
Though  all  were  but  the  One  who  cannot  die. 
What  suhstaiice  have  reflections  in  a  glass  1 
Let  all  the  dewdrops  vanish  from  the  grass  — 
One  Sun  remains,  and  never  will  it  pass. 
The  soul  that  knows  itself  the  soul  to  be, 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  379 

Becoming  thus  a  live  eternity, 

No  grief  within  itself  will  longer  see. 

The  dewdrop  then  in  perfect  clearness  knows 

Itself  to  be  the  Sun  which  in  it  glows. 

THE    SANKHYA   PHILOSOPHY. 

Of  what  the  inspired  and  ancient  teachers  call 

Producing  causes  there  are  eight  in  all : 

The  imdiscrete^  which  has  no  parts  nor  round ; 

The  intellect ;  self-consciousness  in  bound  ; 

The,^ve  sensations,  elements  subtile, 

Known  as  the  hearing,  sight,  taste,  smell,  and  feel. 

Fine  entities,  from  the  beginning  strayed, 

Sensations  must  not  be  imagined  made 

By  our  sense-organs,  only  there  displayed. 

Material  shapes  from  spirit-forms  must  flow, 

As  all  initiated  thinkers  know. 

From  this  great  group  of  eight,  before  our  eyes, 

Sixteen  concrete  productions  then  arise. 

The  organs  five  of  sense  which  each  man  grows, 

The  ear,  the  eye,  the  skin,  the  tongue,  the  nose ; 

Organs  of  action  six,  hands,  feet,  and  voice. 

The  two  excretories,  and,  far  more  choice. 

The  mind,  to  doubt  and  to  resolve  designed ; 

The  five  gross  elements,  the  ether,  light, 

And,  coarser  much,  the  earth,  the  air,  and  water  bright. 


380  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 

These  twenty-four  are  causes  and  effects. 
But  he,  the  pupil  whom  the  sage  selects, 
By  din  and  glare  of  errors  unseduced, 
Will  learn  that,  unproducing,  unproduced, 
The  twenty-fifth  is  the  eternal  soul, 
Around  whose  rest  incessant  changes  roll. 

Sure  knower,  everlasting  seer,  in  joy 

Detached,  whom  naught  disturbs  or  can  destroy, 

Unborn,  undying,  making  not  nor  made, 

A  strange  spectator  hidden  in  the  shade,  — 

This,  changeless,  sees  the  changes,  swift  or  slow, 

Producers  and  produced  still  undergo. 

No  agent  is  the  soul,  but,  far  removed 

From  all  by  mortals  hated  or  beloved, 

In  endless  peace  it  holds  its  state  divine. 

Beyond  the  moving  maze  of  lives  malign. 

These  principles  whoe'er  with  clearness  sees. 

From  him  the  qualitative  triad  flees, 

And  pleasure,  pain,  delusion,  never  more 

Shall  vex  him,  rescued  from  their  turmoil  sore. 

Great  Kapila,  the  sage  whom  none  pass  by. 

Who  built  the  Sankhya  wall  that  naught  can  shake, 

Declares  a  separate  soul  in  each  to  lie  : 

For  else  their  states  would  one  experience  make. 

But  some,  we  see,  are  dark  and  poor  and  sad. 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  381 

While  others  are  as  bright  and  rich  and  glad. 

The  same  distinctions  which  their  bodies  sign 

Likewise  their  inward  faculties  outline. 

So,  if  a  multitude  of  forms  unrolls, 

There  is  as  well  a  multitude  of  souls. 

Were  there,  in  all,  a  single  soul  alone, 

When  one  was  saved,  no  evil  more  were  known. 

But,  as  it  is,  each  one,  apart,  must  win 

The  insight  which  redeems  him  from  his  sin. 

The  goodness,  foulness,  darkness,  triple  chain 

Which  binds  all  life  in  worlds  where  seemings  reign, 

No  one  can  tear  away,  in  age  or  youth, 

Except  by  the  immediate  sight  of  truth. 

Worth  wins  reward  in  all  the  mortal  states ; 

Insight  alone  it  is  that  liberates. 

Virtue  as  cause  exalts  the  rank  of  life ; 

But  knowledge  frees  the  living  from  their  strife,  — 

In  dazed  desire  and  pain  no  more  to  reel, 

Plucked  o'er  the  rim  of  birth's  entangling  wheel. 

The  man,  where'er  he  breathes  mid  ranks  alive, 
Who  doth  these  principles,  in  number  twenty-five, 
Well  understand,  surpassingly  shall  thrive. 
Whether  the  staff  of  mendicant  he  bear, 
Whether  in  matted  mass  he  grow  his  hair, 
Or  wear  a  top-knot,  or  be  shaven  bare, 


382  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

"Dwells  he  at  home,  or  goes  for  alms  about, 
He  is  emancipate,  beyond  a  doubt. 

Before  great  Kapila,  while  ages  go. 
Let  each  successive  pupil,  bending  low, 
Imbreathe  the  precepts  from  his  lips  that  flow, 
Ascribe  to  him  all  honors  men  can  show. 
And  muse  upon  the  peace  the  sage  must  know, 
With  gods  immersed  in  pure  beatitude 
Where  vain  simoons  of  pain  cannot  intrude 
Entranced  in  contemplation,  deep  and  sweet, 
Of  Kapila  we  kiss  the  hands  and  feet. 

FROM   THE   FRENCH    OF    MADAME   MANOURT   LACOUR. 

How  sad  it  is  to  find  no  comrade  at  my  side, 
To  whose  dear  hand  I  may  with  joy  my  own  confixie ! 
Time  flies.    AVhat  use  for  me  to  watch "?    To  while  away 
Hours  yesterday  so  sad,  and  sadder  still  to-day  1 

To  love  1    Wherefore  to  love  1    We  only  have  the  pain 
Of  loving  for  an  hour,  a  day,  within  a  chain 
Which  it  requireth  all  the  rest  of  life  to  sever. 
How  blest  it  were  to  love,  if  we  could  love  forever  ! 

Forever  1    Hapless  dupe  !  the  thought  is  most  absurd ; 
Man  bears  in  feeble  frame  the  spirit  of  a  god. 
To  engrave  on  unattempted  mountain  he  pretends. 
The  infinite,  of  which  he  dreams,  in  nothing  ends. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  383 

THE  TRAGEDY  OF  EARTH. 

Alas  !  alas  !  the  king  was  old  ; 
His  head  was  gray,  his  heart  was  cold. 
Full  young  was  she  who  near  reclined  j 
Ah  !  why  to  him  by  fate  assigned  1 

The  page,  alas  !  was  fair  in  form ; 

His  head  was  brown,  his  heart  was  warm. 

And  he  was  ever  at  her  side ; 

And  sighing,  sighing,  still  he  sighed. 

When  heart  for  heart  in  flame  is  sheathed, 
The  heart  for  which  the  sighs  are  breathed 
Too  well  their  meaning  still  doth  know. 
She  understands.    Alas,  the  woe  ! 

The  end,  for  pair  so  sweet  and  young, 
To  tell,  needs  neither  pen  nor  tongue. 
The  matchless  charm,  the  fatal  touch  — 
Alas !   alas  !   they  loved  too  much. 

A   THOUGHT    OF    KANT. 

Two  things  my  soul  confronts  with  awe,  — 
The  starry  sky,  the  moral  law. 

GOETHE   ON   NAPOLEON. 

When  great  Napoleon  came  before  the  judgment  throne, 
The  devil  boldly  rose  and  claimed  him  as  his  own. 


864  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS, 

God  said :  "As  self-possessed,  he  stands  before  your  eyes, 
If  you  can  take  him,  you  may  have  him  for  your  prize." 


LICHTENBERG  S   HERO. 

Among  his  puppies  postures  this  most  vain  of  men, 
And  fancies  he  is  Daniel  in  the  lion's  den. 


so    NEAR     AND    YET    SO    FAR. 

One  lovely  morning,  on  the  sward  I  lay ; 

The  air  was  heavenly  fresh ;  the  sun  shone  bright  j 

The  lustrous  leaves  were  twinkling  in  their  play ; 

The  earth  and  sky  seemed  all  at  one  that  day. 

A  voice  in  silence  said  from  out  the  blue, 

"  The  angels  send  this  message  unto  you  ; 

No  truth  withholds  from  him  its  rich  reward^ 

Who,  free  from  self,  lies  open  to  the  Lord  I  '* 

Alas !  since  first  upon  the  earth  began 

The  struggling  and  aspiring  race  of  man. 

What  multitudes  this  message  old  have  heard. 

And  eagerly  to  give  it  forth  bestirred ! 

How  few,  not  satisfied  the  law  to  tell, 

Have  in  themselves  observed  its  order  well ! 

These  two  or  three  have  mighty  epochs  made  ; 

And  when  another  such  shall  be  displayed. 

Supported  by  the  joined  and  ripening  race,  — 

The  heavenly  kingdom  comes  with  speedy  pace. 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  385 

THE    captain's   DREAM. 
(From  the  German  of  Anastasius  Griin.) 

Over  a  distant  sea 

A  ship  by  night  is  speeding  j 
The  captain  silently 

In  slumber  lies  unheeding. 

The  keel  cuts,  still  and  calm, 

The  wide  and  silent  spaces ; 
But,  full  of  dire  alarm, 

A  dream  his  sleep  embraces. 

He  dreams  a  lightning  flash 

The  lofty  mast  has  riven, 
And  on  the  cliffs  in  crash 

A  storm  the  ship  has  driven. 

Swift  overboard  he  leaps, 

And,  as  the  vessel  sunders. 
Strikes  out  to  swim  the  deeps 

Beneath  the  bursting  thunders* 

With  fainting  arms  he  steers, 
And  sees  the  coast  grow  nearer ; 

But  on  the  rocks  he  hears 
The  breakers  roaring  clearer. 


386  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

Upon  a  crag,  full  high, 

There  stands  a  beckoning  maiden, 
Who  flings,  as  he  floats  nigh, 

A  rose,  with  dewdrops  laden. 

A  plank  drifts  towards  his  grasp,  — 
His  safety  if  he  chooses ; 

But,  mad  the  rose  to  clasp. 
The  buoyant  waif  he  loses. 

His  arms  can  bear  no  more, 
Quick  death  his  spirit  crosses ; 

When  from  the  gulf,  ashore. 
His  form  a  billow  tosses. 

Awaking  with  the  shock. 
On  deck  the  captain  hurries. 

The  waves  the  heavens  mock ; 
No  breath  the  calmness  flurries. 

The  sea  fresh  sunbeams  deck ; 

The  air  with  peace  is  laden  j 
No  trace  of  storm  or  wreck, 

No  sign  of  rose  or  maiden ! 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS.  387 

A   SPEAKER   BEHIND   THE    SPEAKER. 

When  the  stinger  stings  without  intent, 
He  who  then  is  stung  is  doubly  stung : 
For  the  taunt  the  taunter  never  meant 
Deeper  sinks  as  launched  from  Nature's  tongue. 

THE   BLUE    TRINITY. 

I  met  her  on  the  first  fair  day  of  spring, 

When  all  around  with  joy  appeared  to  sing. 

Within  her  hand  a  bunch  of  violets  blue ; 

Above,  all  bluely  overhung  the  skies ; 

Below,  more  deeply  blue  were  her  dear  eyes 

Whose  tender  glances  thrilled  me  through  and  through, 

As  met  we  on  that  first  fair  day  of  spring 

When  all  around  with  joy  appeared  to  sing. 

And  many  a  time  since  then  I  wish,  with  pain, 

To  see  that  vision  fair  but  ouce  again,  — 

The  triple  blue  —  blue  flowers,  blue  skies,  blue  eyes 

Whose  soft,  mild  glances  thrilled  me  through  and  through 

On  that  spring  day  when  life  was  young  and  new. 

All  deep  and  pure  desires  are  prophets  true ; 

And  surely  somewhere,  in  yon  wooing  blue, 

A  reconciling  world  of  truth  is  due, 

Where  sweet  fulfilment  waits  for  me  and  you  ; 

And  we  shall  grasp  the  meanings  with  surprise 

Of  flowers  blue,  blue  heavens,  and  blue  eyes. 


388  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 


CHARM. 


From  the  gem  and  the  flower  to  the  storm, 
There  is  beauty  in  color  and  form. 


POISE. 


Let  truce  prevail,  or  battle  lower, 
Still  peace  remains  the  poise  of  power. 

THE   GUIDING   MAXIM. 

Our  life  on  earth  flies  faster  than  a  dream, 
And  many  ask  how  most  they  can  enjoy  it ; 
But  me  true  wisdom  teaches,  as  I  deem. 
Rather  to  seek  how  best  I  can  employ  it. 

A   SONG   OP   TIME   AND   LOVE. 

I  loved  when  yesterday  was  bright : 
To-day,  that  joy  no  longer  nigh, 
I  grieve  and  morn  in  doleful  plight, 
The  fatal  truth  in  constant  sight, 
That  when  to-morrow  comes  I  die,  — 
That  when  to-morrow  comes  I  die. 

Then  both  to-morrow  and  to-day 
Is  love  a  woe  1   Ah  !  no,  I  say ; 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS.  389 

Because,  in  noonday  or  in  night, 
I  find  a  marvellous  delight 
In  still  remembering  yesterday,  — 
In  still  remembering  yesterday. . 

PRATER   OF   A   PROBATIONER. 

Long  doomed  to  wander  solitary  here. 
Amidst  a  wilderness  of  frozen  souls  ; 
Still  seeing  visions  that  they  cannot  see, 
And  hearing  voices  that  they  cannot  hear ; 
Most  lonely  where  the  crowd  most  thickly  rolls  j 
Consuming  with  desires  beyond  their  dreams  j 
Betossed  between  extremes  of  hope  and  fear, 
Where  all  that  is  most  near  most  worthless  seems, 
And  solid  good  a  distant  vanity  ; 
Myself,  0  God,  I  prostrate  in  the  dust, 
And  cry  to  thee  in  agony  of  trust,  — 
Enlighten,  calm,  and  guide  my  mind,  I  pray. 
And  how  to  bless  mankind  teach  me  the  way. 

THE   PILGRIM   AT   THE    GOAL. 

In  rags  and  sweat  and  dust,  barefooted,  tired, 
Without  a  friend  or  staff,  I  had  aspired,  — 
Still  toiling,  patient,  on  my  pilgrim  way. 
Almost  despairing,  when,  0  happy  day  I 


390  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

Appeared  a  sudden  light  my  steps  before, 
And  well  I  knew  the  dazzling  Tavern  door. 
The  Host  himself  the  glittering  wine-cup  poured  ; 
Amazed,  I  reeled,  fell  prostrate,  and  adored. 
Then,  as  with  long-parched  lips  the  cup  I  drained, 
Swift  vanished  all  that  e'er  was  falsely  feigned ; 
The  universe  of  matter  shrunk  to  naught, 
Resplendent  blazed  the  universe  of  thought ; 
No  speck  of  ill  was  left  in  great  or  small. 
My  soul  ecstatic  soared  to  embrace  the  all ; 
And  straight  the  low  was  high,  the  far  was  nigh. 
In  boundless  God  dissolved  the  raptured  I. 

Then  seemed  it  not  to  me  that  I  was  He,  — 
Who  could  endure  such  fearful  blasphemy  1 
I  was  not  He,  myself  in  godhead  blent, 
But  every  egoistic  limit  went 
Before  the  drenching  flood  of  Unity, 
And  I  was  not  at  all,  but  He  was  me. 

Ah,  lonely  pilgrim,  weeping  on  thy  way. 

Take  heart,  and  with  this  truth  thy  courage  stay. 

The  inmost  life  of  every  conscious  soul 

Impels  it  toward  a  universal  goal. 

Where  all  the  travellers  shall  unite  at  last, 

To  read  in  one  clear  view  what  they  have  passed, 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS.  391 

And,  seeing  in  each  part  the  Whole  complete, 
Find  all  they  deemed  most  bitter  turned  to  sweet. 

As  million  dewdrops  show  the  single  sun, 
Each  Unit  of  the  Many  holds  the  One  ! 
'T  is  true,  no  man  the  throne  of  God  can  reach ; 
But  since  no  bounds  the  Infinite  enthrall. 
The  Lord  can  sit  upon  his  throne  in  each 
And  from  that  point  his  sceptre  sway  o'er  all. 

Although  the  creature  never  can  become 

The  pure  Creator  in  his  boundless  sum  ; 

Yet,  since  within  the  humblest  mind  resides 

The  mystery  no  language  can  declare. 

He  can  from  thence  expand  o'er  all  besides, 

And  bring  all  truth  to  conscious  vision  there. 

Ah,  when  at  last  the  vast  infinitude 

Of  finite  minds  —  intelligential  brood 

Of  latent  gods,  woven  in  that  web  of  laws 

Which  represents  the  omnipresent  Cause  — 

Shall  break  from  out  the  old  chaotic  din 

Of  night  and  ignorance  and  strife  and  sin. 

And  a  divine  uniting  knowledge  win ; 

Then,  focal  point  of  universal  thought. 

Each  one  shall  be  to  full  fruition  brought. 

While  evermore  the  blended  meanings  of  the  Whole 

Make  perfect  music  in  the  conscious  soul. 


392  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


SOLILOQUY  OF  A  PELIEVER. 


Let  thy  soul  keep  its  poise,  undisturbed  by  the  storm 
Of  misfortune  and  fear  that  explodes  at  thy  side ; 
And  no  matter  what  clouds  may  the  prospect  deform, 
Still  be  sure. that  no  evil  thy  soul  can  betide, 

For  the  infinite  God  is  the  ruler  of  all. 
And  his  image  of  law  has  a  temple  in  thee ; 
Though  the  world  into  pieces  should  threaten  to  fall. 
No  remediless  ruin  can  possibly  be. 

And  remember,  however  the  tempest  may  rip. 
That  there  still,  in  the  heart  of  the  whirling  typhoon, 
Is  a  region  of  absolute  calm,  where  the  ship 
May  repose,  like  a  picture  asleep  in  the  moon. 

Then  whatever  the  racket  that  rages  around, 
Let  thy  breast  never  yield  to  distrust  or  alarm; 
God  himself  is  enthroned  in  a  peace  without  bound,  — 
Let  his  image  in  thee  know  as  perfect  a  calm. 


University  Press  ;  John  Wilson  &  Son,  Cambridge. 


^^^^m^'""  "  "  ^  ^  ,  ,  ST  DATE 

jr^  OF  25  CENTS 

WIL.1-  BE  ASSESSED        ^^^  ^^^^TIJ^E  FOURTH 


.-.  Nvv^'c^-^VM^i^^^^jf-a^M 


